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Youth is still staining Jimin’s face and it’s nowhere near pleasurable as many people make it seem.  

A few decades back, to the time Jimin couldn’t even remember anything other than fragments of light and twinkles of sound in his ear, he thought dreams were only a concept of one general direction in which everyone has to follow. It was a road that everyone had to deliberately take. A path in which every living soul on earth was obligated to walk on, else they are nothing but parasites living off of people who are better than them. 

When you have a dream, you have a goal you want to achieve, you have something you want to possess, and you get somewhere you want to witness. From all of this do you gain your purpose. It’s the true meaning of why you are alive and why you should always choose to go forward; may it be crawling, running, or stammering to your ultimate destination. 

‘Tis only a few years, or maybe hundred decades later, does Jimin realize that though dreams are a ride everyone should hop on, it’s not just one wide expressway of which everyone will take to one specific place.

It’s a combination of high and low streets, twisting alleys and joint intersections. A variety of smooth and rough pavements, built differently for all kinds of wheels that trudges on its grounds. A tangle of different dreams, lengths and widths, all for one singular acquisition in life. 

Happiness. 

Jimin eyes his appearance in the mirror in front of him. People would kill to have what he has right now. The constant wishing to not once have a line marr their foreheads, to not have their fingers shake involuntarily, to never feel their knees buckle over the weight they could no longer carry due to old age. 

It never really dawned on his understanding why people would want to stay young forever. Everyone seems to desire immortality, staying in one time and place to never move forward. It’s a dream for them, something their entire existence craves for like it was food and water. 

As Jimin clips an earring to his left ear, he wonders why people would ever want something as incinerating as what he has. He had learned that dreams are the key to an emotion that would fill every human’s lacking and empty smile, but as Jimin watches himself straighten the collar of his shirt, he thinks, there is no happiness in this place. 

Then again, what he dreams for is what others have, so maybe they’re not at all different. 

His reflection is blinking back at him with the same tired expression he’s been sporting for as long as he can remember. The mirror has a few scratches here in there, dust that stuck permanently to the glass that no matter how hard Jimin tried to scrub off, he couldn’t get out. It’s wooden frame has lost the shine it wore on its first varnish coat. If Jimin were to press his finger on the solid wood, it would sink along the softened material. It’s color is no longer similar to a mahogany’s, it’s true form, but a spoiling piece of sandal along the shore. 

The mirror has ripened in age, but the boy in it remains a boy still. 

Jimin clips on his right earring, and sighs at what he thinks is his final look. He's wearing white slacks that are tailored to fit his legs well, along with a baby blue dress shirt with buttons that do not reach the top of his chest. His black hair is parted a little to the left side of his face, smaller portion gelled to his scalp to accentuate the shape of his face, while the rest of his fringe falls feely on his forehead. 

A vintage watch sits prettily on his wrist. At least to modern people it is. To Jimin, it’s as new as it was first gifted to him. 

Jimin glances down to his watch, smiling sadly as he catches a glimpse of the thinnest hand working its pace around the clock. A memory of gummy smiles and soft giggles as the watch first wrapped around his wrist intoxicate his mind.

Time has stopped only for him. 

Satisfied with his look, awfully simple yet very fitting for his plans for the day, Jimin abandons the mirror in hopes of burying the lingering sadness it invokes out from him just by looking at his own face. 

Instead, he trudges over to the living room, where he gives a slow twirl for his fashion critique of the day. 

“How do I look, Holly?” He asks, his voice ridiculously raising to a pitch higher as he addresses his pet dog. The poodle bends his upper body in half, his tail wagging as he barks up happy noises to his father. It’s obvious in the way he circles around his place that he’s satisfied with the look. 

“You think so? I think it’s lacking,” Jimin whispers more to himself than to the dog. He slips his hands in his slacks’ pockets, feeling like there is something else he should do to finish the picture. A cherry on top, like they say. 

The man walks around his apartment, thinking of something-anything that he can possibly wear or cling on to so he’ll look relatively better. A satchel would ruin the shirt, and a clutch is far too inconvenient for an event that isn’t a champagne party, so he figures it's not a bag he’s missing. 

Glancing around this pigsty he calls an apartment, his eyes search desperately to catch for something that would light a bulb in his head and make him exclaim in delight; the only missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle that is his entire look. 

Jimin tries to shrug off a thought that easily slips his head. It’s not the moment to entertain unwelcomed thoughts though they are highly relevant to the matter at hand. It’s his outfit that’s lacking, not his life, not his heart. Now is not the time to think about the reality, especially when he’s about to face it anyway anytime soon. 

Like a miracle, Jimin’s eyes swing along to a coat rack beside his window overlooking the city. Atop the rack, sits a pretty white baker boy hat that matches the color of his pants. Alas, the missing piece to his entire look. 

Jimin walks to the hat, shining under the sun outside his windowpane. He’s aware of a little fluffy ball following closely behind him, so he watches his step as he retrieves his head piece. 

Jimin secures the hat on his head, pouting lightly at the way his polished hair has been covered. He walks back to the mirror and faces his reflection along with a heavy feeling in his stomach. Shrugging it away, Jimin allows his hand to run down his shirt, this looks better than how plain he appeared earlier. 

With a hum, he marches back to where Holly is sitting on his cushion. Jimin crouches down and scratches behind the pup’s ear, earning himself a soft growl from the appreciated dog. 

“I’ll head out for now, love.” 

Jimin whispers. He waits for the dog to nod his head, as if he really understood what Jimin said. Smiling, he rises up to the front door, keys and wallet in hand, “I’ll be back, I promise.”

Taehyung sits facing the pond, watching the little ducks flurry along to their mother. He looks very endeared at the animals. A soft smile rests on his face while his hands stay on both laps, palm flat on the dark trousers he has on. 

Even from behind, Jimin can see just how much time has changed for his best friend. Though Taehyung has a beret that is similar to Jimin’s, the gray hair at the back of his head is visible to everyone, glimmering under the sun of a Saturday afternoon. 

His shoulders are slumped forward in a slouch, his spine naturally recoiling in itself as an effect of old age. His arms and back are larger than how he used to look when he and Jimin first met. That’s because his skin is drooping and so are his muscles, causing a visible change in his body proportions. 

Jimin wants to stay where he’s standing. At the entrance to the home’s back garden, leaning against the frame of the wide entrance that can fit 6 people if they were to pass through all at once. 

Taehyung looks so peaceful sitting alone. Serene like the sound of water splashing around nearby soil, tranquil as Seoul’s mid fall air. It’s good to see him like this, considering there are days that are all bad and painful for him. Jimin doesn’t want to disrupt a quiet moment Taehyung’s having for himself, because it’s not too soon that he loses it to natural reasons such as aging and illnesses. 

However, Jimin doesn't need to contemplate on much, when he sees Taehyung slowly whip his head towards Jimin’s direction. He plasters a wider smile than he was wearing, as if to say ‘caught you staring’. 

This time, Jimin doesn’t hesitate to walk closer to where Taehyung rests. A smile creeps up on his face too, forever in awe of how his friend always knows when Jimin is in near proximity. It’s beyond intuition at this point. Taehyung is like a twin flame to him now. A significant other to his actions, and choices, and decisions. Thankfully, he’s not the type of life Jimin is leading. 

“Hey, big guy,” Jimin greets, pulling a chair behind him to sit closely beside Taehyung. 

“Hey, Jiminie,” Taehyung greet back, in an evident slower voice, “Thought you wouldn’t come,” 

Jimin scoffs at the accusation. Never in his life did he miss a Saturday where he had to visit his dear Taehyung. Ever since Taehyung was first admitted to this care home by his children, Jimin had gone the first week of his stay. If he were allowed, he’d stay here too, since he’s in age and all. But judging by how everyone in close range looked weirdly at him when he suggested the idea, he presumed you have to look old too to be admitted. 

Anyhow, Jimin wouldn't be the sixth day in the week for the world. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tae,” He says, “You could feel me leave my apartment as you sat here,” 

Taehyung doesn’t deny. He only smiles at Jimin in a way that allows him to admit he’s been caught. Taehyung always has a pretty smile, no matter if the reason behind it is kinda bullshitty. 

Jimin gazes at Taehyung’s face. His forehead is marred with lines, and so are the edges of his eyes and his lips. His skin is falling dangerously low, pulling his entire face in a sagged look. Even the hair on his eyebrows are gray like those on top of his head. 

Taehyung is growing old. It doesn’t seem like it’s been fifty years since he and Jimin swore to their own blood that they would remain as friends forever. It was in his photography job he accepted for extra income, when he was first graced by the blessing that is Kim Taehyung.

From first glance, you’d know he’s a wonder. He had so much potential in the photography field. The photos he took were all articulate and yet abstract all the same. He was extraordinary, always had an odd yet adorable thing to say. Jimin decided he liked the guy, and not too later found out the adoration was mutual. 

They’ve been friends for who knows how many years now? 

Taehyung found himself a husband, had children, lived a good life, and Jimin was there with him throughout. He was there and watched a friend he loved so much, get all the good things in the world. 

Jimin was there, sitting on the same seat, watching everything progress in front of him, as he stayed right at his place. His face didn’t change, his hair remained black, his skin was as smooth as they were in the first years of adolescence, all the while people he loved and people who loved him grew old and moved on. 

It’s quite unfortunate. 

But it’s past him to even cry nor question this fate. 

“How are you, Jiminie?” Taehyung asks in a grumbly voice, eyes never leaving his best friend's ever so youthful face. 

Jimin hums, already expecting the question to leave his friend’s mouth. Though time has changed Taehyung’s life and appearance, certainly, he still owned the biggest heart in the world. Among all the Saturdays Jimin visited him, not once did Taehyung fail to ask how he was doing. 

“I’m alright, love.” He replies, a hand on the armrest of Taehyung’s chair, “The end of the year is nearing, and I’m already looking for a new city,” 

“Still on the move I see,” Taehyung smiles cheekily. The first time he heard Jimin’s untouchable plan to deceive the government and cheat time, he was heartbroken. 

In fact, he was shattered by the truth of Jimin’s existence. 

If it was something so vague to Jimin, so critical and difficult, then it is more to those who have to watch him stay as his age while the world moved. It was months of crying nights, screaming to the heavens why Jimin had to remain in a place he already outgrew. But their voices got hoarse and the hope in them died, heaven did not respond. 

Jimin had no other choice but to do it. People are starting to realize he really isn’t born along with them, nor is he gonna grow old with them. Documents, titles, ownership, it’s included in the things that flows with the current of time. And though Jimin doesn’t want any of this in the first place, he can't just sit and wait to be caught by those who find who do not understand. 

He needs to move, change identities, and disappear from places he’s been to. That’s the usuality of Jimin’s life ever since he accepted this is what he’s to face the following years that do not move. 

By how many decades Jimin has been doing this, Taehyung has gotten used to it. Long and he can now even joke about it, “Best fugitive in town, I should probably call security.” 

Jimin laughs at his old friend’s never changing tactics. Still hilarious and ridiculous as ever. This is one of the times where he finds himself wishing Taehyung didn’t have to grow old like his soul doesn’t. This is also the time he catches himself and stops selfish thoughts before they become too much for his own. 

“No, you won’t, you love me,” 

Taehyung grins, “Now, now, young man,” He says in jest, Jimin knows it is, though the nickname still pinches a muscle in his heart, “A personal attack is not really healthy in a professional argument,” 

“Admitting defeat this soon, Taehyung?” Jimin shakes his head, disappointed. 

Taehyung leans back, the grin on his mouth never leaving. Through slightly squinted eyes, he watches Jimin under the blazing sun. Slowly, his hand reaches to Jimin’s own, to wrap in a comforting manner. 

A sad smile makes its way to Jimin’s face, not even bothering to hide it from his friend’s gaze. They both know they have nothing to do anyway. It’s beyond their control, something they can only watch together, from two seats just by a small pond. 

Taehyung’s hand feels rough and calloused on Jimin’s own. Scars and evidence of hard work over the duration of his life. Jimin thought life couldn’t get any tougher than his, but the sharp edges of Taehyung’s hand proves him wrong. Life was tough on everyone, having to face battles on their own. Just because Jimin’s was unusual, doesn’t make it any more special than others. 

The man smooths his own thumb over Taehyung’s hand that feels like plastic from how his skin seems to peel off of his body. Jimin smiles as silence engulfs them. The quiet reminder of being there for each other passed through the gentle touches of their skin. Serene and tranquil like water and air. They have long figured that what they have will never be scorned by anything ugly in this world. 

Looking down on their linked hands, Jimin feels content. Along with the symbols of the difficult life he led, Jimin knows it was also a merry one. Glinting under the sun is a silver ring on Taehyung’s fourth finger. It’s less shiny, and far more blurry than when Taehyung's husband first slipped it into his finger, but it’s just as beautiful on Taehyung’s wrinkling hand. 

Time was insignificant to the love Taehyung had received throughout his life. 

Jimin will forever be thankful for that. 

After easy silence and a few more chats about random, silly things. Taehyung’s nurse in charge had to hurl him back inside his room so he could sleep. Though he knows he’s always going to be coming back here, and Taehyung won’t go unless they say proper goodbyes, Jimin still feels sad on watching his friend be gradually assisted back inside the building. 

The time they share always feels so limited, restrained, though Jimin has all the time in the world. 

Taehyung is wonderful soul. It's one thing that would never grow old, one thing that would never get on the ferry of time that would travel around the world in circles, passing time, inducing changes to everyone and everything without not single person batting an eye. It's one thing that would stay with Jimin in this trap, this cage that will forever hold his future. 

With one last look on the pond they were gazing at earlier, the mother duck and her hatchlings back in the safety of their homes, Jimin figures it’s time to head back too. 

Jimin stands up, collecting himself and his stuff. He walks across the mowed lawn decorated with green grass and flowers everywhere, thinking whether he should just drop by some restaurant and order take away food or cook something at home. It’s been long so he cooked too. Occupied with work and preparing to move soon, he can never have time to prepare himself some meal. 

The thought makes Jimin want to laugh. It’s so ironic. Time is such an illusion. A fraud, a lie. How can he have every single bit of it, and at the same time, none of it at all? 

His laughter, however, dies in his throat, when he hears an old man bickering with one of his nurses. 

Jimin whips his head to the direction of the voice. A few meters away from him, stands a man he can recognize anywhere. He’s dressed in beige slacks and a white short sleeved dress shirt. Unlike Taehyung, his hair is not entirely filled with gray locks. From afar, Jimin can see that his face is also drawn with tough lines, and age has made him look slightly different, Jimin wouldn’t mistake that voice anywhere. 

He feels his knees buckling, and suddenly he can’t find it in himself to breathe. He’s surrounded by nature and trees and a lot of oxygen, but none of it seems to enter his lungs like it’s supposed to. A hand flies to his left chest, rubbing tightly as he takes in the sight. 

“It’s okay, miss. You don’t have to help me sit, I can do it myself.” 

That voice, though it’s darker and broodier. It’s the same timbre Jimin used to love. The feeling of resting his head on the man’s chest, feeling his ribs vibrate as he speaks never left Jimin. It’s like a song that would stay in his life, because songs are timeless. 

Jimin watches the nurse insist he help the man to his seat, and the man refuses as politely as he can. It’s obvious that he’s just being nice to not cause more trouble, since slightly aggressive patients are more prone to tranquil shots. But this man is so stubborn, he tries to push the girl as gently as he can, forcing him to do it on his own. 

Finally, the nurse allows him to sit by himself, and the man does so flawlessly. He looks back at the nurse who’s watching him from afar, and he gives a thumbs up to prove his point. 

It’s old and gray, but it’s the same smile, same hand, same annoying, prideful attitude that Jimin had loved so much. 

A shivering whimper goes past his lips as it dawns on him. It’s Yoongi. 

It was a particularly windy weather, and more than usual, Jimin was scrambling to get to class on time. 

He had woken up late again. He can never really get used to dormitory life. He wishes he was back in his hometown, where he would have his mother wake him up when it’s time for school. 

No matter how hard he tries or how many alarm clocks he sets on its highest possible volume, he still sleeps past it. It’s ridiculous, it’s like he never learns at all. A few scoldings from his professors and humiliating glances from his classmates, Jimin still has the face to show up late for the next class. 

As usual, time never seems to stop with him. He has all of it, but at the same time, he runs out. 

In an obvious hurry, clouded with the growing irritation for himself, Jimin doesn’t notice a large man he bumps into throws them both on the floor. 

The stack of books he was struggling to carry go scattering on the ground, and a high pitched cuss escapes his twisted lip. 

Cursing heavens and the entire world, Jimin leans down to retrieve his discarded books, almost blocking the entire hallway of passing students. 

The man who has bumped into him, thank God, has some conscience and bends down to help Jimin pick up his books. He slowly picks up the books and puts them on his lap. Somehow, the man’s pace annoys Jimin. He’s late for class, some asshole bumped into him, and seems to be taking his precious time, oblivious to the fact that Jimin is so close to passing out on the floor at the realization of his close future in Professor Kang’s class. 

Because Jimin is not an ass like the man in front of him currently is, Jimin doesn’t snap at the guy. Perhaps, it’s his fault as well. Or maybe the alarm’s. Anyway, he just fastens on picking up his readings. 

Once done, Jimin stands up and the man does so at the same time as him, and their eyes meet. 

At this, the man, who by his uniform looks like a senior student, looks horrendously surprised to see Jimin in such proximity. His eyes scan Jimin’s face like the school guard does for their ID cards, and an audible gasp escapes the man’s lips. 

“Wow,” He says in a deep, awed voice, “You’re beautiful.” 

Jimin wants to punch him in the face. 

This is definitely not what he needs now. One more minute of standing around here and he flunks his biology class. 

Jimin clears his throat, ready to excuse himself from this man clutches but he purposely covers himself up on Jimin’s way. 

“What’s your name?” 

Jimin rolls his eyes. 

“I’m Yoongi. Min Yoongi.” 

Jimin takes a long, good look at the man that just willingly introduces himself. He has a pretty face. Sharp cat eyes, pink nose and lips, fair skin, black radiant hair that brings out his complexion. 

His parted lips from utter shock disperses into a small smile, tugging at the edge of his lips. A bit deluded to point out the way it suddenly makes him feel. One second, he’s ready to commit arson. Next, he’s prepared to stay here and adore that smile forever. 

Jimin has lived a long life enough to know people and witness similar phenomena to this. But none has ever made him want to close his eyes and swim in wonder of what it brings. 

Sighing, Jimin slumps his shoulders. 

“If I tell you mine, will you let me pass?” 

His grin stretches wider and Jimin has to look away from how bright it seems to shine. 

“Only if you say we’ll see each other again,”

A mirroring smile that’s starting to hint on his face dies at the words spoken. A small twinge in his heart causes Jimin to wake up from the small reverie he allowed himself to dwell in. At the blink of an eye, he’s reminded of the truth of why he’s here, who he’s been running away from, and what he shouldn’t run into. 

Min Yoongi tilts his head to the side, testing every restraint Jimin harbors, “Perhaps I could treat you to some lunch? How about a campus tour?”

Jimin is ready to say no. It’s supposed to slip smoothly off his tongue the past times he did. This time shouldn’t be any different. But then Yoongi is smiling incredibly wide, gently handing Jimin’s books that he helped gather. There’s a new glint in his eyes that Jimin couldn’t possibly look away from. 

“Or.. I could help you carry your books when you’re late for your class?” 

It’s ludicrous how easy it comes. Just like that, a few stupid words from Min Yoongi, and something warm spreads inside Jimin like a wildfire. Unstoppable, blazing, demands every single part of him to be felt. 

Jimin stops the smile from crumbling down his facade, but he knows Yoongi sees it. The same twinkle in Jimin’s eyes that he sees in Yoongi’s. 

It’s beautiful. 

Jimin has all the time in the world. He supposes he could have this moment. 

“Campus isn’t really that wide, so a tour won’t work.”

“But-”

“It means there’s a higher possibility of seeing me around,” 

Jimin knows he shouldn’t. 

He doesn’t live a long, almost immortal life just to remain stupid and ignorant. What he wants to do is nothing but both dangerous and nonsensical. 

There’s a reason why they’re at the opposite ends of this space, that shouldn’t change just because Jimin saw him again. 

But something just compels him to walk closer. There’s this urge in his system that gravitates him closer to the man sitting quietly near a bush. 

His heart is aching so badly, and he knows this throbbing won’t stop even if he goes home and tries to drink it all away. He’s going to carry this day in his life, and it makes it hard to breathe, because he’s going to have life for a very long time. 

Defying every sense he has, betraying every reason he had then, Jimin slowly makes his way to take the empty seat beside Min Yoongi. 

The man doesn’t immediately notice his presence. He’s staring at something far away, and it gives Jimin time to take in the man’s appearance.

Time changed so much for Yoongi too. Maybe painfully more. 

His face is filled with wrinkles. Sad, depressing lines that only mean one thing, he’s had a life void of smiles. 

His eyes, though gazing away, twinkle less bright than Jimin remembers. There's something in them that he can’t find anymore, and it hurts him to think that he’s the one who killed it. 

He holds back the sob bubbling in his throat to not disturb the man who seems to be in a trance. Jimin doesn’t know what Yoongi is looking at, but whatever it is must be something so pretty and precious that he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Yoongi suddenly blurts out, startling Jimin in his seat. He doesn’t know if he’s being talked to, but no one else is close to Yoongi than he is, so it must be him who’s being engaged in a conversation. 

As gentle as he can, Jimin hums, “What are?” 

“Those,” Yoongi points out using a flick of his head. He points to a bush of flowers a few meters from where they’re seated. “Pretty flowers. Reminds of me someone,”

Jimin hears his heart break inside his chest. His eyes avert to the flowers Yoongi is pertaining to. “Forget me nots,” Yoongi supplies, “Jimin used to love them,” 

Tears start filling Jimin’s eyes, and this time he doesn’t know if he still has any power to stop them. Yoongi is still not looking at him, and it takes all of him to stop himself from releasing a loud sob. 

Mustering up the strength and shoving away the shreds of glass that’s pooling at his feet, Jimin responds, “Jimin?”

Yoongi nods slowly, eyes fixed on the blue flowers blooming abundantly on the bush it’s grown on. “He’s as pretty as those flowers, maybe even more. But I can’t really remember his face that much to know,” 

“W-why not?” 

Yoongi replies back almost grudgingly, like he doesn’t believe it himself, “Doctors told me I have the Alzheimer's. I forget a lot of things, but when I see those flowers, it reminds me of him.” 

The first set of hot thick tears roll down his face, and there’s nothing he can do but clamp a hand to his mouth to remain quiet. Everything in him seems to collapse. Heavy weight bricks and debris fall on top of his remains, crushing the pieces left of him. 

It doesn't make sense. Why, of all people, did Yoongi have to go through this. It's unfair. If there was one thing he shouldn't lose in his life, it's his memory. Yoongi always looked at the world with something shining in his eyes, and now the memory of what he saw is slowly being wiped away. 

Jimin's heart clenches. Yoongi doesn't deserve this. He should be somewhere in the city, tucked in a blanket in the safety of his own home. He shouldn't sit here, sad and lonely, being gradually eaten away by something vicious in his head. This is not what Jimin wants for him. 

Yoongi doesn’t continue speaking, but Jimin wants to know more. He doesn’t want to pry or interrogate him, but he doesn’t want to just leave too. He can’t, not after seeing Yoongi like this, not after he heard his name slip out of his mouth again after many, many years. 

Jimin asks in a shaky voice, “This happen all the time? When you look at those flowers?” 

Yoongi nods when he does. “Sometimes, I wish I didn’t remember him when I did,”

Jimin manages to croak out a small ‘why’, and the response has him shattered to the ground. 

“My chest hurts when I do.” 

Jimin opens his mouth to breath, but instead of air coming in, a choked back sound comes scrambling out. It’s far too late for him to cover his mouth to stop it, nor is there even a chance to run away before Yoongi finally turns his gaze to him. 

Their eyes meet, and it’s like for the first time since Jimin is allowed to remember, everything else around him freezes in his wake. 

Through a clouded vision, he struggles to see and maintain eyes with Yoongi. It’s just like how he first felt those brown eyes on his skin, his face, his own. They’re filled with so much wonder, and adoration that they seep through his corneas and escape to the world for Jimin to know. For Jimin to feel all the emotions Yoongi has to pour to him from one gaze alone. 

More tears sting his eyes when he sees realization dawn on Yoongi. 

Shifting in his seat, Yoongi is suddenly gripping the metal arm rests that support the chair. His hazy eyes are blown wide, and his mouth is parted. 

“Jimin?”

The sound alone can make a raging sea to sleep. The sky will calm in the midst of it’s wrath, and all the singing angels in heaven would stop to listen. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, but the mere sound of it destroys every cell inside Jimin’s body. 

“Is that really you?” 

There’s so much hope and light in the question, Jimin doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

“But.. it can’t be. You should have aged and grown old like me,” Yoongi says, a tremble in his voice that wasn’t there moments ago. 

“You look just as the same,” he whispers, “As beautiful as the first day I met you,”

Jimin feels himself falling apart. Yoongi forgets everything. He forgot everything But not how Jimin looked the first time they ever saw each other. 

Jimin knows. No one in the entirety of his life has found someone more beautiful than Yoongi had. Every time, it slipped past Yoongi's lips like it was the easiest prayer in the world. At night, when they lay on the ground to watch the stars, Yoongi had said Jimin is as beautiful as the night sky. The day Jimin had graduated from their university, Yoongi walked up to him and muttered the words only for him to hear. Even when he couldn't see Jimin, it's all that ever busies his lips.  

He's never felt this loved and appreciated. So bright, and pretty, it was a miracle to have him this close and personally tell him how he beautiful he thought he was. 

This is unfair. This is too much. Watching Yoongi grow old without him just isn't enough, is it?

“I’m sorry, I must be hallucinating.” Yoongi then says, back tracking. “That tends to happen because of my medication, I think,”

Jimin shakes his head, all of his energy channeling to do so. It’s all true. It’s hard to believe, but it’s true. He’s here, he’s still here, he never really left at all. 

“You’re not,” He says with a small voice, shaking his head in further defense, “It’s me,” 

Yoongi smiles a little, “I'm not? But how can it be?" He wonders out loud. All it does is ruin the resolve Jimin has been trying to found. The faintness and calmness of Yoongi's voice is calling up a storm that he would bring for a long life that's to come. 

"I don't know, but one day, I woke up and I didn't grow old anymore. Everything stopped for me but the world went on,"

And so did you. 

Jimin closes his eyes, trying his best to remain calm despite a disaster brewing inside him. It hurts. He thought there’s no greater pain than when he had to say goodbye to Min Yoongi, but seeing him again is sending daggers to his soul. 

“Well,” He says, evident in his voice that he's not easily fooled. He doesn't believe a single word Jimin has uttered, and Jimin guesses that should be fine. What good would it even be for him if he knew the truth? "Was it hard?" 

Jimin asks in a hesitant voice, "What was?" 

"Not growing old?" 

His lips twist into something sour, and the answer to the question weighs on his shoulder before it is even let out to the world. 

"Excruciating." 

Yoongi nods, sympathetic. He angles his upper body to face Jimin, so they can engage in a conversation. "I'm sorry," 

But Jimin is quick to shake his head, "It's not your fault, Yoongi. God, it never was." 

“What can I do to make it hurt less?"

Something tangle's inside Jimin's stomach. It hurts so much that he wants to throw up. Every thing in him is not functioning properly, and it's driving him insane. Jimin had hurt him. Jimin had caused Yoongi nothing but heartbreak and loneliness, and it's because he was stupid enough to ever start something he couldn't end. Time wouldn't end for him, but it's what Yoongi needs. Yet, here Yoongi is, wanting to lessen Jimin like he hasn't been hurt like this for ten folds. 

Jimin shakes his head, his hands waving in the air to gesture it doesn't matter. Nothing would ever stop the pain. Decades has passed since their love was born and it's the same amount of distance when Jimin had it killed. Time helped ease it but it's never going to truly end. 

Yoongi is gazing at him like he knows the words before Jimin says them. But he doesn't get a ahead of himself, and still waits for a proper response. Jimin feels like he should speak, he should stop leaving Yoongi hanging. 

"There's this one thing you used to call me.." 

Suddenly, a frown is marring Yoongi's forehead, and he's leaning forward in confusion. He's quizzed at how Jimin seems to know it. Something so special and sacred between them, when he's just a stranger who's humoring a lonely man sitting alone. Yoongi was sure Jimin was spitting nonsense to entertain him, crossing the line, pretending to be someone he so dearly loved. He didn't mind at first, since he misses Jimin a lot, but then Yoongi realizes the stranger in front of him is not at all lying. He's really Jimin and he is really stuck in time.

Understanding dawns on Yoongi and his face scrunches into a form of cries. With a wavering voice, he mutters, "Oh.. sweetheart," 

Jimin nods, tears running down his cheeks in a rapid pace. Finally, Yoongi understood. Now it's a lot more painful to handle as Yoongi goes over everything that Jimin had said. 

"How did this happen?" 

"I don't know, Yoon. I just stopped moving forward,"

"Oh, Jimin, sweetheart.."

Disintegration would probably hurt less than this. It’s what Yoongi used to call him back when they still belonged to each other. Playing with their hands while they snuggled in bed, Yoongi would whisper into Jimin’s ear the sweetest of names, and Jimin would do nothing but smile at how blissful the sound makes him feel. The first time he muttered the word, Jimin had laughed his entire lung out. But a few months later, he found himself clinging onto the word for dear life. 

“Hi, darling.” Jimin answers back, not missing the way Yoongi’s face fall depths. 

“Ah,” He says, a sad smile on his olden face, “You used to call me that, didn't you?” 

Used to. One of the most painful English phrases ever to be used. Why does it have to be in the past tense? Why did something so incorporated in our lives have to become only something we will look back on because we no longer have it? 

"I never thought I’d hear you say that again after you have left me on that bridge.” 

God, it hurts so much. 

Jimin nods his head, tears spilling from his chin and on to the dry grass beneath them. “I..” Jimin says, “I’m sorry I did.” 

"It's okay, sweetheart." Yoongi answers, his face void of pain like it's supposed to look whenever one reminisces a painful memory. He looks so at peace, like he finally got the long lost answer as to why they said goodbye. Why Jimin, for all the love that seeped through his body and given Yoongi, would kiss him with tears prickling in his eyes, turning around as he pulls away, never looking back.

Yoongi Ieans back on his seat, staring at the flowers again. "I just can't help but wonder sometimes what would have happened if I got to go down on one knee and pop you the question."

Jimin stills, "What?"

"I was going to ask you to marry me, but you left too soon."

A thousand stars fall from the sky, and it rains on Jimin and pierces through every section of his skin. His entire world falls on its feet. Pain does not subside, it only grows larger in time, the longer you try to bury it in oblivion. Jimin wants to kneel in front of Yoongi and apologize, he can't. Yoongi wouldn't need it anymore.

Jimin's entire frame is shaking, and he doesn't hide it from the old man anymore. He can feel a small smile on his lips, full of sadness and sorrow despite the facade it's trying to put up. 

"I'm sorry,"

The word tastes vile on his tongue, but he never got to explain. He never got the chance to tell Yoongi how much he meant to Jimin and how much it destroyed him to leave. Maybe, though it fucking kills him, this is the day he can finally get to. 

“I’m sorry I l-left and broke our promise. You were so good to me, Yoongi. You were so kind, and loving, and made me believe that the stars above our heads shone only for me. I still do, I s-still believe you.” 

Jimin doesn’t stop himself, the tears just come hurling out like a waterfall in the woods. He doesn't know how to tell Yoongi, doesn't know if he even deserves to open his mouth after everything that he's done, but Yoongi needs to know that he didn’t deserve Jimin. He should love someone he can have in his arms even after a few years, a few decades. He needs to know the truth even if it's irrelevant.

"You should be with someone you can marry, have children and grow old with. Someone that will be with you when you move forward.” He says in a low voice, “Back then, it w-wasn’t me, and I am still not.” 

Yoongi lifts a hand to wipe at his cheek. Jimin wants nothing but to see Yoongi cry. All he ever does is break his heart despite being loved to the fullest. “Sweetheart, you know I would've wanted you still," 

His face contorts again, his head throbbing and his heart slowly dying in his chest. “I know that, but I didn’t want to be selfish, Yoongi. You were never going to be happy with someone who can never leap with you. I’m stuck in a place in time but you deserve wonderland, evergreen, an everlasting love that I could not give despite my everlasting life,” 

“Sweetheart..” 

“I’m sorry,” 

“Sweetheart, all those I could only have in you. I would stop my own time if it meant we can be together in one place for as long as heaven would want," Yoongi's voice is nothing but comforting, and sweet, and so full of love despite years and despite betrayal. "I love you that much,"

Jimin curls his fingers into fists. Everything in him wants to explode. He wants to make the pain disappear, but deep down he knows he deserves it. He should have this all to himself, because he chose to fall in love and break this wonderful man’s heart despite knowing it’s not to be. What they had was beautiful, and he was a fool to think he could use it to cover up an ugly truth he has to live through. 

“And I love you,” Jimin whispers, every bit of love he has for Yoongi seeping out.

“I have never loved after you,” Yoongi replies in a staggered breath, that has Jimin curling on himself at the misery it costs him. Yoongi should have all the love in the world.

I would've said yes a thousand times, love. Yes and I wouldn't have it any other way. If he had managed to stay on that bridge long enough to let Yoongi kneel down on one knee, he would've said yes. But that's why he left soon. That's why he left earlier than he should, because he could never in his life, say no. 

“Neither have I,” Jimin whispers, more tears spilling down his face, mirroring Yoongi's own. It hurts so much to just look at him. It’s agonizing. Time will forever be unfair. 

“I may forget your face at times, but my heart remembers you,” 

“No,” Jimin shakes his head, anew determination brewing in his head that would somehow fix this mess. Somehow, it will help cure this pain. It's the only remedy they have. Though it's just another form of torment to Yoongi, it could work. 

“Forget me, Yoongi. I don’t want you to remember me, what I’ve done.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Promise me, Yoongi,” Jimin pleads, “Promise me you’ll forget me. Promise me you won’t see my face when you look at those flowers. Promise me that leaving you was worth all the pain,” 

“Sweetheart, stop. You’re hurting me,” Yoongi sobs. He pulls a handkerchief from his shirt’s front pocket, and gently dabs at the tears streaming down his face. He looks tortured, confused, he doesn't understand a thing going on but the pain circling in his chest and it hurts Jimin more. He wants to kiss all those tears away but he can’t. 

Even after Yoongi knows, there's nothing they can do. 

“I know, love. And I should stop,” 

Yoongi is looking at Jimin with such sad eyes. Jimin is prepared to take it with him till the end of time, as long as the day after this one, Yoongi doesn’t have to bear it any more. 

“Okay,” Yoongi whispers then, in resignation. It's obvious in his shivering voice that he's surrendering. He, too, understands that they can't win against, fate, against time, for a love that's no longer theirs.

His hand he reaches out on top of Jimin's, “But you have to promise something me too,” 

Jimin hums with the last remaining sound he has, “Hm?”

“Promise me you’ll forget me not?” 

Jimin nods. He won’t. He won’t ever forget. Years, decades, and centuries to come, he will forever remember the way Yoongi kissed him, held him, taught him love and made him feel like the most beautiful person on earth. 

Perhaps this is why he lives forever. Perhaps this is why he does not grow old. He will forever stay in this place in time, because he is bound to remember Yoongi’s beautiful smile.

One he had the first time they met, and one he had on the very last day. 

Time will pass, seasons will change, and Taehyung and Yoongi came and will soon go, but Jimin stays here. Even after he stands up to plant a trembling kiss on top of Yoongi’s head. Even after he walks away with his legs trembling, he will never forget a love that’s to be remembered. 

Jimin’s dreams of growing old shatter to the ground. He will never desire anything in this world other than having the privilege to remember Yoongi’s heart for a very, very long time. 

A nurse approaches Yoongi as soon as he leaves his seat. He hears her ask Yoongi as politely as he can, “Who was that, sir?” 

He can hear Yoongi’s sad but wistful voice as he zones away, his eyes closing at the response. 

“I don't remember,”