Work Text:
“Have you ever felt alone?”
“Yes.”
--
The sun glows low over the ocean. It casts an orange hue over everything, and he looks over at Taehyung.
The sunlight illuminates his face, like a filter, his smile boxy and familiar. He runs a hand through his hair, wavy and long, and Jimin is once again taken aback by his beauty.
It’s not a superficial kind of beauty, like the models in the magazines. He’s beautiful in a natural way, makes Jimin feel the way he feels when he sees a particularly colourful flower, or when a fluttering butterfly comes to sit on his hand.
He’s staring, he knows he is. It doesn’t stop him, though. He reaches out a hand, touches the soft skin of Taehyung’s cheek.
Taehyung faces him, and the sunset gives his eyes a beautiful amber colour. They’re warm, and brown, with little specks of gold floating around. Jimin could drown in these eyes, if he let himself.
He almost does. He’s tempted, so so tempted to just let go and lose himself in those wonderful brown eyes that feel so familiar they could qualify as home. There’s a world to be found in Kim Taehyung’s eyes, and Jimin almost loses his way in it, but not quite.
Taehyung looks at him, looks at him like the holds the answers to the universe and Jimin looks back like he holds the world. In some ways, he does.
Kim Taehyung has been in Jimin’s life for so long, has been with him in this world for so long, that he sometimes feels like Jimin’s world. That’s okay, though, Jimin thinks. Taehyung holds his world, and as long as he does, he won’t get lost. He’ll always find his way if he has Taehyung to lead him.
And something in these brown, brown eyes tells him that he will.
--
“Have you ever thought about hurting yourself?”
“Yes.”
--
They’re older, now.
He doesn’t know if Taehyung knows but Jimin knows. He knows it, in much the same way he knows that they’re moving on.
They’re older, and they’re entering a new part of their lives.
Life is about living. It’s about looking around and noticing all the little things around you. The leaves on the trees, the lines of the pavement, the patterns of the clouds. Then you blink and suddenly everything is different. The leaves have disappeared, and you’re on a whole different street, and the clouds are gone and suddenly you’re all alone.
There’s no one to guide you, to tell you where you need to go or how to get there.
Sometimes, it’s all too much.
Sometimes, Jimin goes outside and he looks around and notices, and then panic grips him and he feels his veins ice over and his stomach clench because everything is different, everything has changed, and he doesn’t know where to go.
Life isn’t waiting, not for him, it’s moving on, and Jimin needs to move too except he can’t, he doesn’t know where to go and how to get there, and everything is so overwhelming-
And then Taehyung takes his hand, and Jimin can breathe again. Suddenly, everything makes sense again. The trees are still there, and the stones on the street are still there in the lines, and the clouds are still there, even if they look different.
It’s how it started, all those years ago.
Jimin was alone. The trees had disappeared, taking the leaves with them, and the streets seemed to shift and move, slowly closing in on him and he couldn’t breathe-
And then Taehyung had taken his hand, and pointed at the clouds- look, hey, it’s a dinosaur! – and they’d become best friends, only growing closer ever since.
But they’re not six anymore, they’re older now and Taehyung isn’t here and Jimin doesn’t know what to do.
Life is about going, about taking one street and ending up on another and then continuing into another street, but Jimin doesn’t know where to go, which one to take and Taehyung isn’t here to help him choose because Taehyung has already chosen-
Taehyung has already chosen. Taehyung chose one street and Jimin can’t find it and now he can’t choose the same one, and now that they’re on different streets their roads will go differently and they will grow apart and oh god, what is he supposed to do without Taehyung-?
He feels someone touch his shoulder and he whirls around, “Taehyung!” bursting from his lips and he feels like he might be crying. But the person isn’t Taehyung, and she looks at him pityingly.
“Can I help you, dear?” she asks, and Jimin recoils.
He’s trembling, he knows he is, but he’s lost and scared and he doesn’t have Taehyung to lead him, and he steps away from the woman.
“I’m fine,” he mumbles, wiping his sleeve over his eyes. He takes another step away from her, ignoring the way she reaches out and frowns worriedly.
He turns around, looks back at the houses in the street, but he doesn’t recognise anything and there’s nothing familiar, everything has changed once again, and he feels like he’s stuck in a maze.
He unfreezes, and takes off. He sprints away, away from the unfamiliar street with the unfamiliar houses and the unfamiliar woman calling out to him in an unfamiliar voice, and he focuses on running running running-
He’s not running anymore, is the first thing he notices as he opens his eyes.
His head hurts, and someone is leaning over him, calling out and it takes him a moment to realise they’re talking to him and he’s lying on the ground.
“-ight? Hello? Can you hear me?”
He squints, and makes out two sharp eyes in a soft face, with dark strands of hair peeking out from underneath a dark red hoodie.
“Hey, are you okay?” the guy asks again, and Jimin startles awake.
“Taehyung?” is the first thing he says, because he needs him in much the same way he needs air. The guy doesn’t seem to understand, though.
“Is that your name? Okay, Taehyung-ssi, are you alright?” he asks, and Jimin kind of feels like crying because Taehyung isn’t here but this guy is and he’s strange and unfamiliar and weird and he still doesn’t know where he is.
“My name’s Jimin,” he croaks out, struggling to breathe through his oncoming panic. “I’m fine.”
The guy looks vaguely confused, just before he blurs into a light blob as Jimin’s vision fades a bit.
“Hey, hey! Breathe in, deeply, like that. Don’t panic,” the guy says, but he sounds just as panicked as Jimin feels so it’s not helping much.
Running footsteps approach, and Jimin instinctively moves away from them, curling in on himself with the cold stones of the pavement digging into his back when a familiar voice calls out to him.
“Jimin!”
Immediately, all the thoughts that were running through his brain stop, like pressing pause on a too-loud song. The silence echoes through his head, loud and yet all too quiet, and Jimin veers up from the ground to fling himself in the direction Taehyung’s voice came from.
Taehyung hugs him, presses him tightly to his chest, and slowly the feeling comes back into Jimin’s limbs.
In the background, he hears Taehyung and the guy (named Yoongi, he finds out later) talk about what happened.
--
“How long has this been going on?”
“Three years.”
--
Jimin flinches as Namjoon aggressively throws the door to his apartment open.
He watches passively as Namjoon stalks up to him and starts talking animatedly, voice growing in volume and yet Jimin doesn’t understand a word of it.
Everything feels dampened, muted, as though he’s swimming underwater.
He watches Namjoon’s mouth move, his brow furrow. His hands move wildly through the air as he talks, but Jimin isn’t listening.
He thinks about the door. About the way Taehyung always flings it open when he comes home, boxy smile and warm eyes to greet him.
He thinks about the way Taehyung moves his hands when he talks. They move up, then sideways, and sometimes he moves them in a triangle. Jimin likes that the best, because when Taehyung’s hands form a triangle that means that he’s really passionate about what he’s talking about.
Jimin likes it when Taehyung’s passionate. He gets this sparkle in his eyes, something wild and fiery, and it makes Jimin want to get up and join him, do something to make him happy. To make them happy.
He thinks about Taehyung. The way Taehyung walks, the way he moves, the way he thinks. Some people would say Taehyung was weird. Jimin likes to call him eccentric.
Taehyung is loud, boisterous. He’s warm, he’s happy, he’s sunny- he’s the embodiment of the sun.
Jimin loves it, because he’s too cold too often, and having Taehyung around helps warm him.
“-in, are you even listening?” Namjoon’s voice finally registers, and Jimin blinks up owlishly at him.
“Sorry?” he says, not sure whether he’s apologising for not listening or asking Namjoon to repeat himself. Namjoon doesn’t seem happy.
“I said, you can’t keep doing this! Just because Taehyung is-“
Jimin zones out almost immediately, watching Namjoon’s lips move once more while he settles down against the backrest of the couch.
He looks to his right, at Taehyung’s spot on the couch. He isn’t home, yet. But it’s almost five, so he should be getting home, soon.
--
“Have you ever attempted suicide?”
“Yes.”
--
He watches as Hoseok storms into the bedroom, looking absolutely livid.
Jimin closes his eyes in an attempt to delay the inevitable, so he doesn’t have to deal with another one of his friends raining down his anger upon Jimin.
“What is this?” Hoseok demands, and Jimin feels the air shift and knows he just shoved something in front of Jimin.
Jimin doesn’t answer.
He closes his eyes and thinks about the game he used to play with Taehyung. They’d close the blinds, make sure everything was pitch black. Then they’d take turns, hiding around the room and waiting for the other to find them.
He recalls one time where Taehyung had hidden in the couch, squished between the cushions. They’d laughed, back then, and Jimin relishes in the warm feeling he gets whenever he remembers that day.
He knows Hoseok is talking, knows but doesn’t know, and his head is getting foggier with every second that passes.
He feels hands on his shoulders, in his neck, pressing against his nape of his throat. He doesn’t make a sound, but he doesn’t know if he could even if he wanted.
His lips feel swollen, too heavy, and his tongue is too large for his mouth. His head lolls to the side, eyes sliding open ever so slightly, and Hoseok’s white face is facing him, too close for Jimin’s eyes to focus on.
“How many did you take?” Hoseok shouts, but his voice is muffled and Jimin honestly doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to think about it.
He knows what he wants to think about it, and so he does. Taehyung. He always comes back to Taehyung, and he knows he always will.
He thinks of Taehyung in the winter, last year, when they’d been out building snow forts for so long their fingers turned blue and Taehyung got hypothermia. Jimin hadn’t been worried. Taehyung was so warm, so loving, he would warm up within seconds. Two days later, they’d gone back to their snow fort and, when they saw it was still standing, they’d picnicked in it.
He thinks of Taehyung when it was his birthday. He never liked celebrating his birthday with a large party and drinks. He preferred quiet exchanges and friendly conversations, and Taehyung knew. He’d gotten all their close friends together – seven of them – and they’d played board games and eaten take-out. It was how Jimin had found out he was really bad at Jenga. In fact, he was so bad he’d left dents in their living room floor. He was pretty sure they were still there, anyway.
He thinks of Taehyung when he’s happy. The way his nose scrunches up and his eyes close a bit, the way his mouth forms a rectangle showing all of his teeth, the way he throws his body into his laugh like he has to get it out or it’s going to explode.
He thinks of Taehyung when he’s sad, the way that he still looks beautiful even with red-rimmed eyes and pale skin. The way he makes these sad noises that Jimin wants to hug away.
He thinks of Taehyung, of how he leads him whenever he gets lost and helps him find his way.
He thinks of Taehyung.
Faintly, in a world far, far away from his, he feels himself being moved, voices in the background.
--
“Do you know what triggered you?”
“Yes.”
--
Cold courses through his body, his skin rising up into goosebumps even though it’s June and already way too hot.
He stares, at the wheel of the car that’s still slowly spinning.
He stares, at the red splatters on the road just behind the silverish glint of the car’s bumper that lies detached on the road.
He stares, at the people bustling around, setting up tape and ushering people aside.
Normally, this would make him feel anxious and cornered. Now, he feels nothing.
He feels nothing as he stares at the motionless body they remove from behind the wheel of the car.
He feels nothing as he stares at the red and white lint that flutters in the wind.
He feels nothing as he stares at the notepad in the hand of the friendly agent - Seokjin, the tag on his coat says – that sits down next to him, starts asking him questions.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he thinks of Taehyung.
Taehyung, who is always there to help him.
Taehyung, who is such a kind-hearted, warm person.
Taehyung, who is currently lying on the cold ground in front of him.
Taehyung, whose blood is painting the very ground underneath his feet.
Jimin feels nothing.
He continues to feel nothing for a very long time.
--
“Why are you here, Jimin?”
“…"
--
Jimin wakes up.
He doesn’t need the stale, chemical smell of hospitals to tell him where he is.
It’s quiet in his room. There’s no heart monitor, no nurse, nothing cliché. He’d feel relieved, Jimin thinks, if he could feel anything.
He looks around his white room. It’s empty, void of anything with colour or life. It feels like a reflection of himself. Empty, cold. Jimin’s always needed Taehyung to warm up. This room needs him, too.
He stares at the white wall in front of him. Low, near the ground, is a grey spot on it. Jimin doesn’t have the energy to find a pattern in it.
He needs Taehyung.
He moves, sits upright. He swings his legs off the bed, and stands up on shaky legs.
He remembers when he was too drunk to stand, and Taehyung was there to catch him. He helped him home, even though Taehyung must have been just as, if not more drunk than Jimin. They had hobbled home, struggled with fitting the key in the lock. They’d fallen asleep in the same bed, even though they both smelled like cheap alcohol and perfume.
Jimin blinks.
Just like that, he’s lost.
There’s no Taehyung to lead him, to steer him in the right direction. He doesn’t know what to do next. No one comes to get him, comes in to see if maybe their newest patient is awake. Jimin doesn’t know whether he feels relieved or disappointed.
The walls feel like they’re closing in, swallowing him up into an endless world of pristine white, where he can shout and scream but not hear and no one can find him-
A sudden burst of colour brings him out of his stupor, and his eyes find those of the boy that’s entering his room, two shiny crutches in his hands.
He looks young, handsome. Taehyung gets the distinct feeling he’s seen him before.
“Hi,” the boy says. He has bright eyes, sparkling, like Taehyung’s, and Jimin gets lost in them for a moment, in much the same way he always gets lost in Taehyung’s.
“Hi,” he says. The boy smiles.
He comes over to sit next to Jimin on his bed. “I’m Jungkook,” he says. Jimin says nothing. He watches as his hand trembles, small tremors shaking all the way through to his fingers. The boy takes his hand and holds it. The trembling stops.
“I'm tired,” Jungkook tells him. Jimin nods. The walls have stopped moving. The floor hasn’t disappeared out from under his feet, and Jungkook’s hand is nice and solid in his.
“I’m Jimin,” he says, when he feels real enough to move again.
Jungkook nods. “It’s nice to meet you, Jimin.”
Jimin warms.
Then, the door opens once again and Namjoon comes in. “Jimin,” he says, and then, “Oh.” He stands in the doorway, a bit awkwardly, his eyes fixated on Jungkook.
Jungkook looks back, frozen.
Jimin looks back and forth between them. “Do you know each other?” he asks, and Namjoon shakes his head silently.
“No,” says Jungkook. Jimin is too tired to tell him that he doesn’t believe him. Namjoon sits down next to Jungkook. “Why are you here,” he asks.
Jungkook casts his eyes down. “My back,” he says. “It got messed up in a car crash three years ago.”
Jimin feels like he’s missing something, something big, but he doesn’t know what it is. Namjoon nods. “That sucks,” he says, and Jungkook laughs. Jimin doesn’t.
“How are you?” Namjoon asks Jimin, and Jimin doesn’t know, so he tells Namjoon, “Fine.”
Namjoon shoots him a smile, albeit a forced one. “That’s good.”
Jimin knows why he’s here. Knows what happened, why he did it. That doesn’t stop him from asking, “What happened?”
He can see that Namjoon doesn’t want to answer, and he feels sickly satisfied with the pained look on his face. Hurt, he thinks, hurt the way that I hurt every day.
He immediately feels sorry, though, and he shakes his head. “Don’t answer,” he says, and Namjoon doesn’t.
“Are the others coming?” he asks, because the silence is too loud and it’s ringing in his ear like the horrible music Yoongi used to play. Namjoon shakes his head.
“Just me.”
Jimin doesn’t know how he feels about that. He thinks that maybe, he doesn’t feel anything. Another part of him thinks he’s disappointed. He doesn’t really know anymore, these days.
“The others?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin looks up because he would have forgotten that Jungkook was still here if it weren’t for the hand holding his.
“Our friends,” Namjoon answers. “They’re all busy. Yoongi’s a producer, he’s at the studio recording a song for Hoseok’s birthday. Hobi’s our other friend, but he’s at work.”
“Taehyung,” Jimin says, and Namjoon makes a choked noise. “Where is he?”
Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “Please don’t ask me that.”
Jimin feels weird, sort of queasy. “He’s not here. Where is he?” Jimin repeats, because Namjoon doesn’t answer and he misses Taehyung. Namjoon gives him a look.
“Don’t ask me that, Jimin. You know where he is.”
Jungkook looks on, lost and uncomfortable, but Jimin can’t seem to care. He wants Taehyung. He needs Taehyung.
“I know he went out for groceries, but that was a while ago. I don’t know where he is, that’s why I’m asking you,” Jimin repeats, and the urgency in his voice makes Namjoon pause.
“Jimin,” he says, slowly, “Jimin, Taehyung’s dead.”
Jimin shakes his head. “No, he’s not. Where is he?”
“He’s dead,” Namjoon says again, and Jimin presses his hands against his eyes.
“That’s not funny, Namjoon,” he says, and hates the way his voice breaks. Taehyung’s voice never breaks, it’s one of his favourite things about Taehyung.
“Listen to me, Jimin!” Namjoon is yelling, now, and Jungkook sits between them like a startled rabbit, eyes wide. Jimin stares at Namjoon, remembers all the countless times he’s been like this before, where he watches on but doesn’t listen while Namjoon tries to reason with him.
“Taehyung is dead, Jimin. He’s been dead for three years.”
The room is silent after that. Jimin can hear his heart beat, the faint rush of blood in his ears. He hears the rustle of blankets as Namjoon shifts, and then-
“I don’t want him to be dead,” Jimin says.
Oh, do Namjoon’s lips, and he’s gathered in a hug before he can say anything. Namjoon is warm, and soft, and his hugs are strong and comfortable, but it’s not the kind of hug Jimin wants.
Jimin wants a hug where he feels like he melts against the other’s chest, where the arms holding him are strong but not muscular, where he feels like he’s being held up by the other yet used as a pillar all the same. Jimin wants a hug where the soft smell of vanilla engulfs him, where he has to stand on his tiptoes just so he can hook his chin on his shoulder, where he feels the rumble of his chest as he laughs.
He wants Taehyung.
Jungkook sits awkwardly next to him, and Jimin had kind of forgotten about him until he clears his throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Jimin looks at him. “What for?”
Somehow, Jungkook seems to shrink in on himself. He doesn’t look up to meet Jimin’s eyes as he mumbles something.
Jimin shakes his head. “I can’t hear you.”
Jungkook speaks up. “It’s my fault.” He looks sad, and Jimin doesn’t want Jungkook to be sad.
He squeezes the hand he’s still holding, ignoring the way Namjoon lets him go and takes a step back to watch the scene unfold.
“I’m the one who hit him,” Jungkook says, and Jimin’s world stops.
Jungkook hit Taehyung. Taehyung was hit by Jungkook. Jungkook drove the car that hurt Taehyung. Isn’t that ironic.
Taehyung. Wonderful, sweet Taehyung. The Taehyung that was terrible at ping pong and yet continued to play with him even though he didn’t like it. The Taehyung that had a scar on his shoulder from the night that they got drunk and played darts and Jimin accidentally hit him. The Taehyung that had, upon the question “Are you two dating?” declared that “No, no, this is my Jiminie. My soulmate. Soul-Jimin. Soulmin. He’s my soulmin, and I’m his soulhyung. Does that make sense?” and then promptly passed out. That Taehyung.
That Taehyung had been killed in a driving accident involving Jungkook.
Jungkook. The same boy that had killed his soulhyung was the one sitting next to him on this bed, walking with crutches due to his back that had been messed up in a car crash – the car crash that took his best friends’ life.
“Oh,” Jimin says. To his horror, Jungkook begins to cry.
He puts a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. It feels awkward and wrong, but he ignores the million thoughts running through his head and says, “It’s okay.”
Then he starts crying, too. He doesn’t know what Namjoon is doing, and he doesn’t particularly care. He tugs on Jungkook’s shoulder, hard enough to make Jungkook fall over, and he buries his face in his neck.
He cries for the best friend he lost, for the years that he spent hoping he would come back. He cries for the friends he’s pushed away, the way his life was supposed to go, the way that he lost and the loneliness that came with the way that he was supposed to share with Taehyung.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. He cries.
--
Jimin laughs as Hoseok flops, face first, on the couch. A handful of peanuts is strewn around him, the only proof of the numerous attempts of catching one in his mouth Hoseok has undergone. Yoongi’s terrible, too-loud music in the background thumps loudly.
For the first time since the accident, Jimin feels happy. A warm, light feeling bubbles in his chest and it comes out as a high-pitched giggle, which goes hand in hand with the way he flings his body at Jungkook, trusting that he’ll catch him.
He does. He drops his crutches, though, and one of them lands in someone’s beer glass which topples over and spills on the floor, but Jimin doesn’t care. Jungkook caught him.
He laughs more, high on the feeling of happiness that’s been a stranger to him ever since that fateful day in June. He throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck, then stretches up to pull him into a hug much the same way that he used to do Taehyung.
He still misses him. He misses the way Taehyung used to laugh at his antics, that quiet little huff that meant he was trying not to laugh but did anyway.
He misses the way that Taehyung used to look at him like he held all the answers to the universe, so that Jimin could look back at him like he held the world.
He misses the way Taehyung found beauty in everything, in the world around him and the people in it.
But most of all, he misses the way Taehyung loved. Taehyung loved everything and everyone unconditionally. Sometimes, Jimin wondered about them. They were close, closer than friends but not quite lovers in the very definition of the word.
He’d loved him, though. Still does. He loves Taehyung like his life depends on it. In some way, it had.
But now, in the arms of Taehyung’s killer, the sweet innocent boy with a heart too heavy to handle the guilt, he feels okay.
It’s been a long road, and an unexpectedly lonely one, but the way he chose nonetheless. And somehow, being near Jungkook makes him feel like he’s near Taehyung, too.
He’s glad they found him. He’s glad that his friends never gave up on him, that Jungkook came into his room that day, that Taehyung took his hand that day.
It hurts, sometimes. It hurts to love someone so much it feels like part of your soul is torn away when they leave. It hurts to love someone who will never be able to show their love back to you. But Jimin doesn’t regret loving Taehyung. He never will.
In many senses of the word, Taehyung was his first love.
And in some way, Taehyung lead him to the way that gave him Jungkook. And Jimin smiles more.
Because even after his life has ended, Taehyung is still here to lead him, to guide him to the right way. Taehyung never left, and Jimin realises that even though Taehyung may not be here with him, he won’t ever be alone because Taehyung has always been there for him, and will always be. Taehyung died in the car crash, but Taehyung didn’t.
As long as Jimin’s here, Taehyung is too.
And Jimin is okay with that.
Jimin is okay.