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jeongguk opens his eyes, the ceiling of his bedroom stretching before his eyes and the sunlight coming from the open curtains burn his eyes but it is not the only thing that burns; the deep ache he got used to in weeks still there, though heavier and sharper. his weak heart thumping rapidly against his sore chest as he breathes shallowly, and he feels his head burn with the lack of oxygen. he breathes in and out yet no air fills his lungs; it is like there is a blackhole in his lungs that sucks in every gulp of air he so desperately tries to take in himself, nothing reaching to his limbs nor head. he tries to move but everything is so heavy, the pressure on his chest and the pull all around his limbs making it impossible to even move a single finger. he tries to scream, to just make a sound so someone, anyone can hear him but there is a lump in his throat, making it harder to breathe and he cries, his tears a momentary relief from the hot burning all over his frail body.
he tries harder, struggles more but then there is bile rising his throat, the petals crawling their way back on from his lungs and he cries harder, thinks that he will drown in his own blood and vomit. it claws at his insides, the tingle of pain so sharp.
but then there is voices coming from afar; a subtle sound calling, for him perhaps, since he cant make out anything at all with his ears feeling as plugged as his mind. and then there is warmth around him, brief pressure of hands on his chest and he sees the bed next, the ceiling at the corner of his eye now and he lets it all go, the bile, the petals and the blood following close by, and cries. he lets the hands wipe his mouth after he had emptied all the sorrow gathered inside, turning his body back and rubbing over his chest in soothing circles after it is all over.
a face so familiar above his is what makes him blink. after a few times his sight is clearer and he can make out his hyung’s eyes and the horrified expression that is plastered on that beautiful face.
jeongguk cries harder as he thinks it is over, that now everyone is going to learn about it and he will be left alone, not even the silent presence of jimin will be there when he wakes up in the middle of the night, though not so often as the older man is barely home. he tries to talk, only some senseless blubber leaving his mouth and seokjin is shushing him, holding him from the armpits and lifting his pliant body to a sitting position. he buries his face to seokjin’s neck, crying harder there and he breathes in relief when the older pats his back, not pushing him away like he expected him to.
(“gguk?”
jeongguk breathes in a sharp breath, afraid of what is to come, “y-yes?”
“‘s-‘s’t jimin?” he asks, his voice watery, out of breath-like he is the one who has been heaving up flowers for the last hour—
jeongguk wants to speak, to deny it, wishes it would be someone else he found outside, someone he could gave up on but it is not, and the knowledge of it present on the tip of his tongue hurts possibly more than the roots and thorns digging into his heart and lungs.
there is a long silence after that, only their loud heartbeats and jeongguk’s heavy breathing filling the space.
“yes?” jeongguk begs, tears filling up his eyes again, he buries his face in his hyung’s chest, little quiet hiccups suppressed in the cloth he wears.
“oh—“ seokjin lets out, eyes blurry and hands shaky.
"oh, baby."
he tries to pet jeongguk’s head, but with his whole being trembling like he is sick, he can only hold onto the hair on his nape, resting his cheek on top of the younger’s head and he cries silently, too. wondering how the two of them came to this point.)
another week passes with jeongguk coughing out his lungs, and the pretty pretty flowers blooming inside, too; but this time he is not alone, with seokjin always somehow close by. some days he finds himself in his hyung’s arms when he wakes up, jimin already gone, not even a word left for him. other days, he spends the night with him and his roommate, cuddling up on their old tiny tiny couch, their limps tangled so closely that sometimes jeongguk doesnt even feel the emptiness in him, came out after jimin left his space in there, now roots of some half shaped flower growing in his stead.
but there is still days jeongguk spends alone, sitting on their balcony on his own, only a cup of tea or a bar of chocolate keeping him company. it is quite hard at times like this and jeongguk knows with a phone call, his oldest hyung would be there to cuddle him to sleep in mere minutes; but he doesnt want to bother him more, the heaviness of the secret the two of them hold seems already enough to jeongguk.
it is at times like this that jeongguk misses jimin the most, the moments they would spare for each other only, shutting off their phones and the whole outer world, only the two of them in the coziness of their apartment. he would be the most content, the happiest at times like this; but now he sits here on the cold floor of the tiny balcony and wonders if jimin will even come home tonight.
(jeongguk dreams of jimin that night, his body cold on the floor of the balcony but it is so warm in his dream. he dreams of the widest smile of his lover, the loudest laugh of his, the prettiest sight ever, with the smaller man sitting on top his thighs; the warmth filling his veins at the sight of his lover leaning over him, the rays of the sun peeking in through the half opened curtains, creating shadows under the long locks of brown hair falling on jimin’s eyes; a soft look that the older looks at him with, his eyes filled with so much emotion and jeongguk can see it all, the love, the contentness, the happiness.
he wonders when did those eyes turned so cold.)
jeongguk wakes up feeling sore all over, colder than his bed but warmer than he thought he would wake up to. he notices a blanket on top of his frail body, one that wasnt there the night before. he tries to get up in hurry, his head spinning the moment his feet touches the ground. with a hand leant on the wall before him, he waits to gather his surroundings before sprinting inside.
only one words echoes through his mind, a mantra of jimin jimin jimin repeating itself all over with a smile plastered on his face and he runs, runs around the kitchen then to the living room, his feet hurt from the cold but he runs to their bedroom next, jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin keeping on repeating over and over and over but then he feels the burning deep in his throat again, the petals rising and he can only crouch before it all comes out, cough after cough ripping through his throat and he doesnt know what to do, doesnt know what it all means and just sits on the floor, coughing up petal after petal, all covered in blood.
it lasts minutes, or maybe hours as it felt to jeongguk, then he sits back, a hand rubbing his neck, his eyes blurry and his mind hazy. it takes another minute for him to get to himself, and the sight of the perfectly formed petals of a pretty pink rose is the first thing he sees, all of them blotched in dark red, shining under the light of the early morning.
the open doors of their closet is the second thing he catches, half of it emptied and there sits a piece of paper, taped on the surface, on the mirror and he cries in realization, the single word still echoing in his head, now thrumming—jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin—
gone.
jimin is gone.