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Enough time had passed for Jimin to feel kind of numb, but not nearly enough to get the deep sadness out of his body. He wondered if it would ever be the case. Only three months had passed since Taehyung had left, his best friend, fulfilling his dream of exploring the stars. Which inevitably meant to leave everyone behind. The effects of time dilation were ruthless.
He tried not to think about it. It wasn’t a death sentence, but it didn’t matter much when he knew he could never see Taehyung again. Jimin sighed and grabbed his drink from one of the automated stations in the park when he noticed someone desperately trying to figure out how to work the station.
“Can I help you?”
The man looked up with wide eyes, clearly exhausted from his efforts. “Oh, please. Those things weren’t invented yet when I was here the last time.”
Of course. There wasn’t an abundance of space travelers in the city, most of them stayed in their own area to avoid confusion with new technology, new customs. This one seemed to like the thrill though.
“That must’ve been a long time...” Jimin mumbled, and pressed the right buttons before he paid. He handed the drink over, and said with a little wink: “At least orange soda is timeless.”
“Beer is even more timeless,” the traveler said with a cute smile. “I’m Namjoon, by the way. Thank you for your help.”
Jimin hadn’t even realized how his mood had shifted from those few words, only when he felt something dripping down his chin. “Oh,” he said, trying to wipe away the tears, “I’m so sorry.”
But Namjoon only lead him to one of the benches and waited patiently. Embarrassing.
“My best friend left recently. He’s a scientist, ” he said after he had calmed down.
Namjoon nodded, sipping on his soda absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Why? You’re one of them as well. Maybe you’ll meet him.” Jimin chuckled. “His name is Taehyung and he’s a biologist.”
“Who knows,” Namjoon only said. He reached out to Jimin but hesitated to touch him, so Jimin did it for him.
“That’s still fine. Hasn’t changed either. We still like to hang out and touch.”
“Okay,” Namjoon said, seemingly relaxed. “I wasn’t home, ah, I think for 170 years. It’s a weird feeling. The language didn’t change too much, but the tech and conventions did. I still don’t know what a group is.”
Jimin eyed him. It explained his accent, and his clothes were... ancient. “That’s easy, just a group of people who like spending time with each other. You just go around and ask whoever seems fitting to join.”
“See, we didn’t do that back then!” Namjoon said, showing a beautiful smile. “It wasn’t that straight forward to find friends.”
“They aren’t friends though,” Jimin said, furrowing his brow.
Namjoon looked like he wanted to add something, but instead he said: “What’s your name?”
“Jimin,” he said, after a moment. “It’s Jimin.”
Namjoon let him forget. He was eager to learn all the new things on Earth, all the new tech, even if he didn’t have a lot of use for it. He would leave in a month, and Jimin would never see him again. But this time... knowing it would end so soon, knowing that it was only a fleeting connection made it easier to accept. Namjoon was only here to help him with his grief, and maybe that was okay.
They were lying in bed, one warm summer evening. Jimin was humming, his fingers idly running over Namjoon’s naked arm. He was drowsy, almost asleep, but he couldn’t get one thought out of his head.
“Are we really supposed to live like this?” he whispered, and Namjoon turned over, suddenly wide awake.
“Like what?”
“Lost in time,” he said. “No connections. No comfort. Just... lost.”
Namjoon was quiet for a long time before he rolled over completely, until he could look into Jimin’s eyes. “But that’s not it, is it? We always need it, other people. We just find new ways.”
Jimin felt the stinging in his eyes and bit his lip. Not now. “And those left behind?”
Namjoon smiled, at least he tried. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We always adapt,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss.
He was right, probably. Change always hurt.
“I will find your friend. I’ll tell him you never forgot.” He wiped away a stray tear, before he said: “There’s so many people who don’t leave, Jimin-ah.”
“Maybe I love the stars as well,” he said, “in my own way. I love the ones who wander through them.”
“Ah, so poetic!” Namjoon giggled, and kissed him again, and maybe that was enough for one night.
“It’s bittersweet, isn’t it?”
Jimin looked up, at a young man standing next to him in the viewing area. They had watched the shuttle leave the planet, a magnificent sight.
“Hm. It is, but... I try to...” He took a deep breath, and the other was eyeing him curiously. “Our memories will wander as well. Who knows if some sentient life form will tell our stories, of the ones left behind, and the ones who took them to the stars.”
“Oh wow, that’s very romantic!” The other giggled, and Jimin noticed the plushy he had pressed against his chest. “I think I like that. I like it better than... thinking they are dead.”
Jimin smiled encouragingly and took the other’s hand. “We always adapt,” Jimin said, trying to ignore the sting it left.
“Ah, you’re a philosopher. I think I’ll stick to crying for a while.” He smiled again, but it was wavering.
“If... you need a shoulder for it, you know. I know.”
The other pulled Jimin into a hug and while they were both lost in their thoughts, Jimin decided that Namjoon was right. We always adapt. We always find someone. Change always hurts. But nothing hurts forever.