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the first time he realises something is wrong is when he glances at jimin, who is sitting across him, in the restaurant they had frequented since the beginning of their relationship. the man is looking bored as hell, his pretty eyes searching the room, for something, something understandably more interesting than... well, his boyfriend of three years sitting across him. he watches his eyelashes flutter with the breath he exhales, and when the brown orbs turn back at him, he doesnt see the spark in them anymore.
there is a subtle ache deep in his chest, barely there, but still something nonetheless.
the second time is when both of their minds are a little bit more clouded, dizzy from the loudness of the music bursting through the speakers; a melody so similar yet so strange, the layers of the song not quiet matching: a song that will be forgotten in less than a month, he muses.
but not even a second later the thought leaves his mind, his ears suddenly plugged, all his attention focuses on his boyfriend on the bar counter, who left just a moment ago to go grab the two of them some drinks, and the way he stands on his tiptoes, his elbows resting on the counter and looking at the bartender with eyes just a little bit too dark for jungkook’s comfort. when he looks at jimin all across the pub, he sees that jimin laughs just a little bit too loud, his head thrown back and exposing his neck, unmarked skin for miles to stretch. he leans a little bit too low, eyes following the deep neck of his shirt—one of jungkook’s ever ending plain white tees, jungkook realizes in a second, but then jimin is leaning even closer, the sinful arch of his back attracting attention of other customers and the pink tinted lips of his curve into an even dirtier smirk, edging so close to an ear, whispering, the already dark eyes of the stranger getting darker, but then the scene is over, jimin leaning back and grabbing two glasses from the counter, stepping back to the couches their group is sitting at.
jungkook is on his feet in a second, grabbing jimin’s wrists the second he puts the glasses on the table and drags him out, his eyes trained on the door leading them outside, to the cold. it takes a minute for him to hear jimin’s yelling, his rage calming and he exhales a breath out he didnt know he was holding.
“—the fuck is wrong with you?! ‘s fucking cold and you just left our coats at the bar! if you so wanted to go you could just—“
“left on my own,” he growls out, “yeah, okay, will do from now on.” he spits out with a face so bitter, a tone leaking hurt and anger all at the same time and he turns around just in time to miss the expression jimin makes. he steps ahead, his feet taking him somewhere, just away from there and them and just jimin, and he doesnt turn back to see if jimin is following.
he cries himself to sleep in the couch, already asleep by the time the sound of the doors lock clicking open and jimin stepping inside with a sway to his walk, with tears running down his cheeks. and even if the older sees how jungkook’s face had gotten swollen with all his crying, he doesnt dwell on it and doesnt bother to wake the younger up to get him to bed. none of them sleep a good night’s sleep that night, nor the following days.
jungkook cries now, for different things but all the same reason. he sits back on his heels, both of his hands clenched tight around locks of his hair, pulling, as if to confirm that, yes, he is so very fucking awake, and this is really happening. this wasnt some made up shit he read on the internet, half formed petals of a pretty pink rose sits there inside the toilet bowl, not yet covered in anything close to blood, but if he knows anything vaguely about the disease, he expects to see the petals more formed, in better shape and blotched in red, pierced from his lungs by his harsh coughing in the following weeks.
he flushes after he finds the strength in him to get to his feet, watching the petals dance with the water and then vanishing. he wishes he could vanish, too. vanish into nothingness and just feel nothing.
it all falls apart following that moment, the ache in his chest turning to a burn so hot it wakes him up at night gasping, a cold hand coming up to press on his ribs.
he cries himself to sleep everynight, turning his back to jimin and trying to suppress the hiccups leaving his shaking throat, his body tensed so tight he can barely breathe. he wont be able to do so much in the following weeks, he supposes, might as well get used to it.
he wakes up to an empty bed and a cold apartment every day, one or two worded notes left in the beginning, but then they are gone too.
he feels all the world collapse over his head when he smells a different scent on jimin’s clothes one day, one that is sweeter than his lovers shower gel, sugary-something that matches well with his soft and milky scent that radiates from the delicate curve of his neck, the same one that he would spend days basking in, the times jimin werent closed up so tightly, the days he would be so vulnerable, so open to jungkook and jungkook only, the way his body would arch into his lovers. the days the two of them would lie with their legs intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle, fitting so good and so close, swimming in the thin line between awakeness and sleeping.
but now as he looks back at it, he sees it all coming to this very moment. he just doesnt know how to catch it since he already let it slip between his fingertips. and then it is all gone.