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“I’m just walking and walking, among this darkness
My happy times asked me this question
You, are you really okay, it asked me
Oh no
I replied, no, I’m so afraid
Still, I hold the 6 flowers tightly in my hands
I, I’m just walking, I said
Oh no” – Awake by Jin of BTS
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Sometimes he hated himself, despite what Namjoon told him. Sometimes, he just smiled and nodded along to Namjoon’s passionate words about loving yourself, no matter the circumstances, about finding happiness in the smallest things, no matter how big the darkness seemed. Sometimes, he tried to believe those words. But mostly, he just nodded along.
He could never tell Namjoon that, however. Would never. Namjoon fought tooth and nail to get where he was today. To come to a point where he could utter that he wasn’t afraid to love himself and sound convincing. And to a degree, believe it himself. A degree that started at near 0° but had evolved into at least 180° now. A complete turnaround.
Jimin had been there at the beginning of Namjoon’s journey when everything in Namjoon’s world had been gray, gray, gray - and he had stayed for the entire ride. He had watched Namjoon flourish. Had seen what loving yourself could do to a person, how Namjoon slowly, but surely, sprouted small buds of self-love and regular love and happiness. Saw him sprout wings. He knew it was possible. Possible to love yourself, to do a turnaround. Namjoon was a living, breathing example of that.
But.
But it was not always that easy.
It wasn’t easy before, and it certainly wasn’t easy now.
Before, Jimin had dark thoughts, had insecurities and doubts. But he also had hope. He had hope and dreams and happiness in the form of his friends and family, in the form of Namjoon.
He had hope, happiness, and, most importantly, love that got him through the bleakness. Got him to start taking baby steps towards loving himself.
But it was hard taking even minuscule baby steps, when– when you didn’t have legs to take steps with in the first place. When you couldn’t see where to step. It was hard, and it was disorienting, and it was horrifying.
Disorienting, because suddenly the road Jimin was steadily walking, the road Jimin had been dreaming of walking since forever, was no longer available to him.
He couldn’t walk.
He couldn’t dance.
Where was he even supposed to go now?
And it was horrifying. It was horrifying, because the bright, colorful world Jimin was so used to, was gone. Just like that. Now there was only darkness, and grey shadows, and fading memories.
Sometimes, at times, Jimin couldn’t even recall the face of his mother, of his brother, of his lover.
And this. This terrified Jimin. He didn’t want to forget, he didn’t. He could no longer see it, and now he couldn’t even remember it. It was't fair. It was't fair.
Yet, no matter how many times Jimin screamed those exact word, no matter how many times he choked on his sobs, how many times his frayed nails dug into his skin, ripped out his hair, no matter how many times his loved ones had had to hold him down, to prevent him from hurting himself – it didn’t change. It was not fair. And that’s just how it was.
Jimin lost many things that fateful day. He lost many things in that crash.
He lost his left leg.
He lost his eyesight.
But worst of all, he lost himself.
What he didn’t lose, though, was his life–unlike the drunk driver in the other car.
That was always something. Right?
Jimin wasn’t so sure.
////
It was not always easy to stay bright when all you 'saw' was oppressing, all-devouring darkness. When, before you used to take the beautiful hues of the sky, the cute, small dog by the river, the smile of the person who held your heart, forgiven. Sometimes everything just seemed so vividly dark. A gray, fuzzy memory of what it once was.
But he tried. He would always try. For Namjoon. For them.
Jimin had always loved wholly. However, he never imagined he would have to rely on that love so blindly—both literally and figuratively.
There were thoughts in his head sometimes. Evil, spoiling voices which told him Namjoon didn’t love him anymore, that Jimin was nothing more than a heavy burden. That he should just–disappear.
And Jimin. Jimin slowly forgot Namjoon’s words about love and self-acceptance, slowly stopped nodding along to them, quit trying to believe. Instead, he began to believe those voices in his head. Let them spoil his mind. It was easier, after all, than continuing to love and believe in love so blindly.
---
Namjoon would always, without fail, visit him in his stuffy hospital room smelling of disinfectant and dust.
Every day.
Jimin hated him for it. Hated him for wasting all his time on Jimin.
What he hated even more, however, was the way his own treacherous heart would swell inside his chest whenever he heard the door handle jingle accompanied by Namjoon’s soothing voice. It was always around the same time. Just after the warm sun filtering through what he assumed to be his window began to recede, and his appointed nurse, a young, kindhearted man with a beautiful, lilting voice named Jungkook, had given him his early afternoon check-up.
No matter if it rained, if it was pouring down, if the sky was wreaking havoc, spitting lightning and yelling thunder, Namjoon would visit him.
It made Jimin’s days that much brighter. But then he remembered how major of a drag he was.
How he should just–
Disappear.
---
Other times, Jimin would feel something slimy and disgusting slither its way inside his mind, his body. It traveled in through his unseeing eyes. Would wriggle its way deep into his consciousness, tainting his thoughts with repulsing darkness, and then slink its way down his throat, making him unable to breathe, unable to say anything. Down into his stomach, it went, where it would settle and curl all around his organs and then squeeze, making his stomach acid spill and burn his insides.
He knew what this disgusting thing was. It was jealousy.
It reared its ugly face on the days Namjoon would arrive a bit earlier. When Jungkook would shyly greet him, and they would laugh together – as if, as if, Jimin wasn’t even in the room, wasn’t invited in on the joke.
It hurt, and it burned, but Jimin kept quiet. He kept quiet and smiled at Namjoon and thanked Jungkook when he (finally) left. Because he didn’t have any right to be jealous.
What right did he have to keep Namjoon to himself, to keep his wings from soaring through the beautiful, colorful sky?
He shouldn’t taint Namjoon with his dull colorlessness.
He should just–
Disappear.
---
“So Jimin, how is everything with Namjoon? Jungkook tells me it’s been a few days since he last visited.”
“He’s been… busy. He needed to focus on his work for a bit. He just got a promotion, right before– not so long ago.”
“I see… Was Namjoon the one to tell you this?”
“… I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply, Mr. Min.”
“Oh, please call me Yoongi, Jimin. Let me rephrase my question. Did you tell Namjoon to ‘focus on his work’?”
“…”
“Jimin… pushing the people who care about you away is not the answer. I know it’s hard, I know it feels like you take too much of their time, but isolating yourself will only bring you and your loved ones more pain than good.”
“I-I… How d-did you…”
“Miyah heard the yelling and Jungkook saw Namjoon storm out of the hospital, but–”
“I didn’t! I-I didn’t mean for us to, to fight, I… I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to be a burden, to– to keep holding Namjoon back–“
“Jimin! Jimin, breathe. It’s okay. It’s okay…”
////
Jimin’s brother came crashing into his hospital room two weeks after the fight with Namjoon. His voice chipper as ever.
It was a bit after noon since Jimin had just finished his lunch. It had been brought to him by Yoonji, a stoic, yet motherly woman who smelled like lilies and antiseptics. When she left, however, she took the pleasant scent of flowers with her. There was now just a faint smell of the spicy stew he had had, along with the usual smell of hospital. It burned Jimin’s nose slightly, making him want to sneeze.
Thankfully that notion was squashed down as he focused on the sounds from his brother. The squeak of his trainers on the floor, the rustle of his clothes, the click of the door closing. His sunshine voice. People would always describe his brother’s smile as pure sunshine, lighting up the entire room. However, Jimin realized, it also dripped from his voice, from his very presence. A pure ray of sunshine. Of light. Nothing like the slithering darkness inhabiting every crevice, every recess of Jimin’s being.
Despite everything that had happened lately, his brother’s presence brought Jimin a much-needed comfort. It blanketed his sharp thoughts, slowed the myriad of doubts nagging away at his insides.
It made him think of all the times Hoseok would help Jimin through his worries and insecurities when they were younger.
Both aspiring dancers, although in entirely different genres. Everything about them indeed screamed opposites, despite what others seemed to postulate. Jimin was nothing like his perfect brother–
Hoseok stepped closer to the bed Jimin was occupying, and Jimin– Jimin immediately realized something was wrong.
He suddenly remembered that Hoseok wasn’t even supposed to be here.
Not because Jimin didn’t want him to. No, Jimin loved his older brother as dearly as any other of the people closest to him. He did. His brother held a special place in his heart right next to Namjoon, their parents, and– and Taehyung.
Hoseok was supposed to be with Taehyung, his boyfriend, in America. Not in South Korea. He was supposed to be with Taehyung, his boyfriend, and Jimin’s close friend, in America chasing their dreams!
“Hyung, where’s Taehyung?”
Hoseok’s trainers stopped squeaking; he stopped moving.
“…I’m sorry, Chim, he couldn’t come this time. This trip wasn’t exactly planned.”
“Oh...”
“Don’t worry, he wasn’t exactly happy about it either. Chewed me out good about it, haha. Quite the drama queen as always.”
For the first time since the fight with Namjoon, Jimin felt the simmering embers that were his anger beginning to stir. Jimin had always had issues with it as a kid. Luckily the fire had dampened as he grew older. At least– at least that was what he had thought. Oh no.
He felt the oh so familiar fire lick at the inside of his stomach now. It had been relit two weeks prior and had just been waiting to finally, finally– explode.
And that Jimin did. The fire in his stomach roared high and full, burning through Jimin, trying to get out, to burn, to destroy.
He didn’t ask why Hoseok was here – clearly without Taehyung – because he didn’t want to know, he, he shouldn’t even be here in the first place, leaving his entire life behind just so he could visit his stupid, weak brother with no legs, no sight, no friends, no Namjoon, and you, you probably talked with Namjoon, didn’t you, did he set you up to this, he did didn’t he, and Yoongi, his, his f-fucking shrink, probably had a part in this as well, probably thought Jimin was batshit crazy when he– when he was the one always spewing shit about acceptance and loss and a future, a fucking future, as if Jimin would ever have one, as if he could become the shitty one-legged ballerina in that stupid, ugly fairy tale, who, by the way, died in the end anyways– no, NO, Jungkook fuck off, everything is fine, I don’t– I DON’T NEED YOUR FUCKING DISGUSTING MEDS, GET AWAY FROM ME–
---
“So, I heard your brother visited. All the way from America even, he must care for you deeply.”
“…”
“I met him briefly the other day. He seems like a nice guy, much like you, really. He told me you both danced, too.”
“…”
“I have an older brother too. We don’t really have that much in common, at first glance, however–“
“Are you not going to make me talk about my, my episode?”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“…but that’s why I’m here with you, isn’t it? So you can pick my head apart and write about how fucked up I am–”
“Jimin, I think you misunderstand. I’m not here to examine your mental state. I’m here for you to have someone to talk to, who isn’t your immediate family and friends. You’re not a mentally ill psychopath; you’re simply a victim of your circumstances. Do you understand?”
“But– but I am unstable, I keep yelling at everyone, keep having these disgusting thoughts– I don’t want to have them. I don’t.”
“And that’s exactly why we’re here, to work through your emotions and thoughts. There’s nothing wrong with you. I hope you’ll understand that.”
“I-I…”
“It doesn’t have to be right now. Take your time. Okay?”
“…Okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s talk about your brother. You seem to have a close relationship. What do you think caused your sudden burst of anger?”
“He… I r-realized he must have dropped a lot to– just to get here.”
“I see.”
“And, and he has a boyfriend, Taehyung, back in America too. H-he said Taehyung got upset because he wouldn’t wait with visiting. He shouldn’t– he shouldn’t have left him behind like that.”
“Hmm… So, what got to you was that your brother left his boyfriend behind? Perhaps, you’re afraid he pushed him away, overruled whatever Taehyung had to say?”
“Yeah...”
“Jimin, does that sound familiar to you?”
////
“Briiingg…briiingg…brii–Click! …Hello? Jungkook? Is– Is everything okay? What happened? Jimin, is he– is he okay–“
“Namjoon…”
“Jimin?! Wha–”
“I-I’m sorry. God, I’m s-so sorry. I asked to borrow Jungkook’s phone, since mine– Uh, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, I– that I pushed you away. I d-didn’t mean to, I just felt like you wasted your time–”
“Jimin. It’s okay. Really. I’m sorry too, for reacting so immaturely–”
“No! No, no, you had every right to behave that way. It was my fault. I was unfair.”
“Love… Let’s, Let’s talk about this face to face, okay? I’ll come over.”
“...Right now? Joon, it’s almost– Okay. Okay, yeah. I– I want to see you.”
“Me too, I want to see you. I’ll be there in fifteen. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
////
He could get his leg back. Not like, his actual leg – that thing was long since expired – but another one. Made of plastic and metal and wires and, and he could– He could maybe, just maybe, walk again. It was still an uncertainty; he would need extensive rehabilitation before they could even begin to consider a prosthetic, but– but it was a possibility. It was possible. His head injury would have to be healed before he could begin rehabilitation, but, God, it was possible.
Namjoon was ecstatic, Jimin too. His brother and Taehyung had screeched at him in joy over the phone. His mom had cried while gripping his hand so tightly, her knuckles must have turned white. Jimin hadn’t minded one bit, though. The unfiltered happiness in her and his father's voices had been worth it.
Jungkook, Yoonji, and a few other nurses had even gathered in his room later in the day with cake, and cards and even Yoongi, his shrin– his psychologist, had been there.
“It was actually Yoongi who got the cake, but don’t tell him I told you that!” Jungkook had giggled to him, and the fond undertone didn’t pass Jimin by. He smiled ruefully. How wrong he had been about Jungkook and his intentions towards Namjoon.
A small flicker sparked in his chest then. A spark of determination. For his loved ones. He could– he could do it. For them. He wouldn’t let them down. That he promised. He would get better. Not just physically. He owed them that. They had all been there from the second he had woken up after his emergency surgeries following the crash. They had all been there watching him fall apart in anguish and hopelessness. And most importantly, they had stayed. He owed them his life.
He wasn’t so sure he would still have been here, hadn’t it been for them.
Jimin didn’t realize it then, but that little spark was perhaps even more wondrous than the prospect of a prosthetic. That little spark of determination was a tiny piece of what he had once lost;
Himself.
////
*Crash!!*
A ricocheting pain pulsed from his left shoulder, cascading to his other hand’s fingertips, up through his neck to the crown of his head and down his spine, down to the stump ending just over where his right knee should have been.
Holding his breath, Jimin laid utterly still, listening to the sounds outside of his room. When no hurried footsteps sounded, he slowly let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He allowed himself a few more seconds on the cold linoleum floor, evening out his shallow breathing.
He hadn’t realized how weak he had gotten. Considering the substantial amount of time he had spent lying on his stomach in a hospital bed, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He knew it had served a purpose; to keep his amputated leg unflexed. Nevertheless, he still didn’t want to think about how gaunt the rest of him must be looking because of it.
Slowly sliding his palms over the floor, so that they were positioned near his shoulders, he tried not to wince at the throbbing of his shoulder. How frail his body had become. Before, he would have had no qualms hitting the floor while attempting a complicated dance move. He would simply have picked himself up and continued.
It was a feat that seemed almost unconquerable at the moment. His wobbly arms were shaking from simply pushing his upper body away from the slick floor.
Jimin had simply wanted to do a few of the exercises Seokjin, his newly appointed physical therapist, had made him do. While he did have therapy sessions regularly, Jimin felt the need to repeat the exercises daily by himself. So he could get better quicker. It wasn’t right to just sit around idly now that he had been shown the means to get better. The more work, the more progress after all. It made sense.
He had gotten a bit frustrated, however, attempting to roll onto his side so that he could do his side-lying hip abductions. The duvet had tangled around his legs, and the movement overall had been way more difficult than usual. And then he was on the floor.
A floor he would need to figure out how to get up from before anyone checked on him.
“Love?!”
Shit.
“Hey, are you okay?!”
Namjoon’s strong arms circled Jimin’s waist, quickly hoisting him up to sit on the bed. He fumbled with the duvet and the pillows, attempting to make it as comfortable for Jimin as possible. Jimin let him, anything to dodge the questioning aura spilling from Namjoon in thick waves.
When everything seemed to be fluffed to Namjoon’s satisfaction, silence settled. Jimin was used to silence with him, but this felt nothing like those other times. Their silences were usually woven with solidarity and serenity, a haven for both of them just to be.
This one felt awkward, stilted. It felt as if Jimin was a naughty kid who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. He had just. Wanted to get better, faster. So he could get rid of his parents’ heavy sighs, which they never seemed to notice themselves, so the exhausted timbre in Namjoon’s voice, he valiantly tried to mask in front of Jimin, would dissipate.
Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s cold fingers and engulfed them with his own warm, warm hand. He still didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Jimin knew what he was asking. Sighing, Jimin collected what little courage he could muster. And told Namjoon.
The flexing of Namjoon’s fingers was all Jimin needed to know he was angry. Furious even. It wasn’t often Namjoon got straight out mad. He was the kind to freeze you out, give you short answers and stony faces until he inevitably forces you to talk it out with him. Always rational and collected, complementing Jimin’s own passionate, sparkling temperament perfectly.
Usually, Jimin could appease Namjoon’s anger, did it ever decide to rear its blazing head. However, Jimin realized, it had never been directed at him so straight on like this. A twisted, quaint shiver zapped down Jimin’s spine. He didn’t know how to quell the furious aura emitting from Namjoon. He was sure if he had been able to gaze into his Lover’s eyes, that they would be lit with a blazing fire.
“Jimin, that’s ridiculous.” A voice like molten lava, barely restrained and boiling. Scorching even. Yet oh so quiet. “You-You're not supposed to be doing this for– for anyone else but yourself! You’re what matters. Not– not your parents, or Hoseok and Taehyung, or anyone working here and certainly not me.”
Namjoon took a deep, quivering breath.
“Jimin, Love, you should get better for you. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Because it will take time. It will take time, but it’s time we have. It’s true that– that it’s hard for us as well, but it’s not because you’re a burden or because we wish to get on with our lives. The burden lies in our love for you, Love. It burdens us to see you struggling. To see the shell of you trying to smile reassuringly at us when it’s obvious you are still hurting. To see you shouldering all that hurt and sadness and dread you keep hidden inside.”
Namjoon’s other hand, the one not holding onto Jimin’s trembling fist, cupped his cheek sweetly, his thumb wiping away the tears Jimin hadn’t realized were spilling from his blind eyes. Because that’s what he was. He was blind, he was a cripple, he was lost, and he was hurting.
God, he was hurting so bad, and of course, Namjoon knew this. Of course, he knew. Namjoon always knew when Jimin was sad when the world and its massive expectations dug a bit too painfully into Jimin’s slight shoulders. Just like how Jimin could identify the burdensome tiredness in Namjoon’s voice from a single hello, Love. Just like how Jimin instinctively knew when Namjoon felt like a tiny, insignificant, useless speck of dust in a vast, vast universe. When tall, strong-willed Namjoon needed to be held tight.
He knew, and he knew Namjoon knew. He knew Namjoon wouldn’t let him bear it alone, that he would silently take Jimin’s pain on as if it was his own. That dumb, big-hearted giant.
Hesitantly, Jimin reached his hand up, letting it hang uselessly in the air between them. Not for long though. Because, of course, Namjoon knew what he wanted out of the action. He gently put his cheek against Jimin’s hand, letting Jimin feel tears mirroring his own.
What a fool he had been, thinking he could make everyone happy again without adding himself to the equation. The solution had been Jimin himself all along.
It was by no means a simple solution. It would take time, it would take tears, and sweat, perhaps even blood.
It was daunting. It seemed unreachable at the moment. But it was what needed to be done.
Shakenly, Jimin pried his other hand away from Namjoon’s. A confused sound slipped past the elder’s lips, but Jimin was quick to shush him. Reverently cupping both of Namjoon’s cheeks in his small hands, he gently brought their foreheads together.
They sat like that for what could have been a minute, could have been an eternity.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jimin whispered wetly.
“My angel.”
And they both knew.
////
“So Jimin, how are you feeling? Jungkook tells me your giggles have been dubbed the heavens bells by the nurses.”
“Oh, Uhm, I guess my spirit has been quite high lately.”
“So I hear. I have some news that might raise your spirits even more.”
“Oh? I doubt anything can make me much happier than I already am at the moment, Yoongi-sshi.”
“Hmm, I see. I guess it would be meaningless for me to tell you then, but we believe you are ready to go back home–”
“W-wait, what. Are, are you serious?”
“You should know me by now, Jimin. Would I tell you this just for fun?”
“Oh, oh my God. I need to call Namjoon, my parents–”
“Now, wait a second. There are certain practical matters we need to discuss. First off, your doctor agrees with me that we should continue these therapy sessions once a week to start. And Jin-hyung has expressed his desire for you to continue your physical therapy under his care. You’ll have to discuss the details with him, though. The rest will be discussed with your doctor.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much, Yoongi-sshi. I’ll‚ I’ll call Joon now. I can’t wait to tell him, oh my God–”
“Oh, and Jimin?”
“Yes! Yoongi-sshi?”
“Please, call me hyung.”
“…I will, Yoongi-hyung. Again, thank you, thank you so much.”
////
Saying everything was a piece of cake after moving back home, would be a lie.
While most days were filled with so much brightness and support and love, the dark, dark thoughts would, at times still slither to the forefront of Jimin’s mind. They would whisper words of self-loathing and uselessness, of bleakness and oppressiveness. Other times, reality would press that bit too hard against Jimin’s ribcage, and he would crumble to the floor unable to breathe. Unable to watch as the world continued without him, their steps too fast for him - even with the prosthetic.
But it was also at those times Jimin would feel the love and support the most.
He felt the love when Namjoon found him in a crumpled heap on the floor, dried tear tracks on his face, eyes unseeing in more ways than one.
When Namjoon would simply cradle him to his chest without asking questions and sway soothingly, murmuring the lines of their song, waiting patiently for Jimin to become responsive again, to come back.
He would feel the love when Jungkook, Yoongi, and Seokjin would show up unannounced at their apartment, forcing their way into the kitchen to cook them homemade meals. He felt it in the way they filled the empty space both outside and inside Jimin’s chest with laughter and friendship.
When his brother and his now fiancé, Taehyung, sent him cheeky audio messages rambling about their Pomeranian puppies, Yeontan and Darth Fluffy, on the days Jimin felt overtaken with the bleakness in his mind. When his parents called him at night to tell him how proud they were, how much they loved him.
He felt it when;
“You were there for me through all my ups and downs. You held me close no matter how much darkness poured out of me, and I’ll do the same. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have been where I am now. You might call me Angel, but you were the one to grant me my wings. I hope I can someday watch you spread your wings, Love. You’ve always had them; it’s just a matter of you letting them free.”
There were certain things Jimin would never be able to do again. Certain dreams he would have to let go. He knew it would take months, years, for him to accept this, to move on. He knew it would take him decades to get accustomed to the prosthetic, to the cane. To both of them combined.
However, Instead of dwelling on that, he chose to focus on the moment. On the small things in life that made it worth it. Most of all, on Namjoon.
In the way, he made Jimin crack up; Frantically trying to help him dress but ending up putting the t-shirt on backward and tangling the shoelaces in an unsalvageable mess.
In the way, he had begged Seokjin to teach him how to cook; So he could surprise Jimin with a night of wine and movies and heartwarming stew.
In the way, he would let Jimin lean on his shoulder; Paying rapt attention to Jimin’s needs - while trying not to get distracted by small frogs and insects on their weekly walks along the river.
Jimin had always loved wholly. However, he never imagined he would have to rely on that love so blindly, so literally. But now he realized it didn’t matter.
Namjoon loved him unconditionally, and in return Jimin loved him,
Blindly,
Wholeheartedly.
And in the end, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
><><><><><
“Maybe I, I can never fly
I can’t fly like the flower petals over there
Or as though I have wings
Maybe I, I can’t touch the sky
Still, I want to stretch my hand out
I want to run, just a bit more” – Awake by Jin of BTS