Work Text:
Jeon Jungkook could feel the cold resting against his skin, turning himself inwards in an attempt to gather more warmth. Today was one of the coldest days of the season; almost minus thirty-seven degrees, and Jungkook was homeless. Outside and alone in the cold weather. He was frightened, wandering alone in an empty city underneath the hundreds of bright lights that displayed themselves through the rooftops of overwhelmingly tall office buildings and apartments.
The cold weather beat against his skin as he could feel his veins gloss over with a thin layer of frost, shivering with a whimper and tucking his thin blanket closer towards his body. There was nowhere he could go. No one he could see. It all depended on where the world wanted him, and, being homeless, the world didn’t want him anywhere near their business porches and family parks. Jeon Jungkook was stuck outside in the freezing ice weather, his body slowing its functions by the hour, by each gruelling minute that passes.
It was almost comical that Jungkook would end up dying this way. That this would be the end for the seventeen-year-old boy whose body was built to last, muscles being able to sustain injuries and deep tissue bold and hardly damaged. That was, until now where he sat on the sidewalk by an open 24/7 bar and clutched at his little bearings, his belongings being few and scarce.
Jungkook coughed, his lungs heaving in and out, and felt the sudden need to cry. He hadn’t cried in a while, having been content with things despite the cold weather, and almost smiled a bit in joy at the memories. Memories of him and his friends, each of them successful and safe in their own homes, that were far away from Jungkook’s current position. He remembered all of their faces, each of them beaming and bright with joy as they performed at a charity for their performing arts dance class. Jungkook was always bewildered on how he was ever allowed in, free of charge, shower included, three times a week with lunch at the end of each session. It was his pride and joy. His only reason for living.
And yet he was half-dead on the sidewalk, listening to soft jazz and heaving in deep breaths of cold, dry air. Jungkook thought about his friends, about what they would be saying if they could see him now. He imagined a sweaty Jimin, gasping for breath after a particularly hard dance session battling with the difficult choreography, smiling at a shy Jungkook.
“Cheer up, Kook! You got this!” Jungkook would melt, letting that soft melodic voice run through his ears and into the crevice of his mind and stay there. To Jungkook, his friends were his everything. Especially sweet and divine Park Jimin, a handsome young boy just barely older than himself. Jungkook sneezed, trapping his mind back in the present and looked around at the empty street. The sky was littered with little stars, barely able to be seen with the soft snow falling down in front of them, beautiful in Jungkook’s mind. His eyes, glassy and dull—torn between fighting for life and going to sleep, shifted carelessly to his fingers. They bore a deep blue colour and Jungkook thought about moving them but couldn’t. They wouldn’t move in the slightest, his fingers being uncooperative. It scared him.
Soon, his feet would follow and then his arms, and then his heart. His lovely little heart that beat so slowly in the final moments of his life.
Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to look anymore. Couldn’t find it in his heart to keep his tired eyes open, and promptly slumped over, cradling the thought of Park Jimin in his mind and letting his last breath be for him.