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The ripped out wires slithered all over the stony paths that were covered in patches of overgrown grass as if the ground itself was sick. There weren't many people, only several figures were looming in the distance, picking the debris and a couple of workers that were checking the freshly established gas pipes nearby.
The stray animals that used to be domestic were chill and walked past the couple of newly arrived people as if they have always lived like that. Being here was far less scary without the burning ruins or the fearful screaming of the crowd. But this peace and quiet somehow seemed more sinister than the digital pictures they used to create in films.
All the compassion, friendship and love were turned into skeletons, leaving only a faint trace of cold stars behind.
Jimin has heard this phrase somewhere, some time in his previous life. The life before the catastrophe. The fed, comfortable, luxury life he had in comparison to his peers. The life with collections of books, with healing resorts, with a warm place he was cherished in and kept away from any harm. He often asked himself later: what was the point?
The catastrophe was called the end of the world. When one ends, begins another, he was being told continuously. So he gritted his teeth and went through the motions for the last five years. Jimin was building the sense of normalcy, getting himself back to health along with his boyfriend, learnt new skills.
Maybe if he was born in the west and was raised there he would panic and lower his hands to give up in the face of the disaster. But he didn't. He was raised differently. If you can't run, then walk. Can't walk? Then you have to crawl, grip for dear life and never stop. And he wasn't alone. In the land where everyone got somehow touched by the hand of woe there was no space for complaining.
The city he had to move out of after the doomsday was his beloved. His whole life was in it, intertwined with proud history and treasures of nature. From the scratched knees and the most delicious porridge in the nursery to the coolness of the libraries and the halls of the university he went to - he adored his place of living to bits. He knew most of the corners even locals didn't know about.
He took photos of things like a small cat statue hidden between the houses on one of the streets in the centre. He knew of a secret underground path between two local museums that used to be some nobleman mansions. He knew the names of all the temples and old fashioned houses of the earls from the nineteenth century. He told his boyfriend about them not so long ago and the other managed to turn it into one more motivation that kept Jimin hopeful about the future, despite his frequent flashes of despair.
- See all those damaged interiors? Over a hundred years ago the nobles, whether innocent or not, young and old, were robbed and killed during the revolution. The ones that were luckily saved by the servants risking their own lives or managed to escape ended up having to hide for decades before they could come out safely and reveal their real surnames.
Jimin traced the photo he took inside one of those houses. It used to be a ballroom with multiple tall windows. There were rectangular light patches on expensive wallpaper in the places where painted masterpieces used to be. Right in front of his eyes appeared a vision of a young dutchess that was admired and praised all her life, dressed in finery and adorned in diamonds since childhood. Then another vision of her having to work anywhere she could, use her hands that used to paint and stitch for washing the dirty floors, having to hide who she was in order to survive. And she never gave up. He can't let himself give up either.
- We will get there, - Yoongi said with finality and the strength in his voice cheered Jimin up.
Here, over a decade ago, he met someone he couldn't sleep, couldn't breathe without. Yoongi completed the almost perfect picture of his ordinary life. He too was an artistic, creative soul like him. A hopeless romantic and a dreamer, he turned out to be rational and practical. A really gifted man.
After they met they instantly clicked. They walked kilometers after kilometers all over the city, the river bank, the vast peaceful parks with neat ponds and the thick of hundred year old trees. Jimin was stretching to him like a young plant reaches for the sun. There was something in Yoongi, something Jimin couldn't yet explain.
They spent time in tiny cafes and went out on spontaneous picnics, knew each other's schedules by heart and all relatives by their names. If Jimin was to look at any place that was more or less significant in the city, it was a hundred percent guarantee that he visited it with the elder at least once.
Before the catastrophe they were content with being friends. They understoodeach other well, had plenty of things in common and learnt to compromise over stuff they had different opinions about. The intimacy grew and they often remained at each other's places for the night, talked for hours, watched films until early morning. Sometimes they simply sat in silence, content and feeling right.
As for Jimin he has always thought that things like romantic love weren't for him. No matter how many times he tried, there was just no pull, no fire burning inside. His blood was singing in his veins only when he was hanging out with Yoongi, his then best friend, a close person he couldn't keep away from for very long.
They left the city being very good friends, sworn not to be apart ever. But as it often happens in the extreme circumstances they realised more clearly than ever that life was way too short. It could end in one breath, in a blink of an eye, in a wave of a wing of a bird.
And love, it comes unexpectedly. So unexpectedly, it hits you out of the blue like a contagious virus. Jimin was happy to get his. Their romance started blooming while they were being evacuated from their city, overloaded with the belongings they managed to grab. They existed together, acted as one, grew into each other like two breeds of trees that were planted close to each other and had their roots intertwined.
Being with Yoongi has become a gift Jimin has been waiting for all his life. He didn't know it until it downed on him. Together they made through five years just fine. Only lately Jimin would randomly freeze in any spot of his temporarily placement and reminisce the times he had with the elder before the disaster. Yoongi too fell sick with nostalgia. They often laid in bed, painting pictured with words, cooking in Yoongi's tiny kitchen, counting stars from Jimin's balcony, taking walks in their favourite places. They remembered while sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. But certainly and surely keeping on living.
Now, five years later, the government started giving away permits to come back. Soon as Jimin and Yoongi used to be residents, they received theirs with no problem, along with generous quotas for living expenses. They didn't end up in a queue that was rumored to last for several years. So when they received the needed paperwork they quickly packed and headed home.
Jimin was sure he would arrive to the mass tomb. And partially it was truth. The workers and volunteers tried to clean up as much as possible and removed all the dangers related to damages of electrical system but the breath of death was still looming over the megapolis. Ruins of skyscrapers, dead bodies of machinery and vehicles have been scattered throughout the centre. The cars looked like they were caught in the moment of escaping, filled with fear and despair. Or maybe Jimin had a too good of imagination.
They were directed into a quiet "family" area, not far from the place Jimin's flat used to be. A pastoral place, really, with simple yards and the air that was not as polluted as in the centre. Jimin's block of flats was completely wiped out but he wasn't saddened about that fact.
- It was way too old anyway, - Jimin shared as they were walking around the neighbourhood. - I was planning to purchase a flat somewhere here anyway.
He pointed at one of the higher blocks that to Yoongi's mind didn't look any better than his original one.
- It's still old. Are you sure we can live here?
- Don't you remember?
In one of such buildings someone was having a party. Yoongi and Jimin were invited too. It was going quite well but the elder didn't enjoy the music that much. When he shared that thought with Jimin the young man huffed and motioned for Yoongi to come with him wordlessly.
- How could I forget you're such a picky listener? - he snickered when they closed the door behind them.
The balcony was rather long and wide enough to be one more decent room. An old record player was standing in the corner with an askew shelf nearby full of vinyls.
- And you can't live without cards, - Yoongi pointed out as Jimin was picking a stack that was laying among other stuff in a huge box of someone's old abandoned things.
- Touché.
They spent all evening on that balcony watching the sunset, listening to Yoongi approved records and playing card games. It was a year before the disaster hit.
- I remember now, - Yoongi murmured.
What Jimin considered a successful aesthetic party was a really special day for the elder. It was the night when he realised that life without Park Jimin wasn't good enough for him anymore.
- Good, - Jimin continued. - The project is old but it's a couple of decades younger. The piping system is well thought through and any kind of trouble can be solved with modern inventions anyway.
- And the balcony is big enough to put a mattress there.
- Yes, exactly... Wait, what are you thinking about?!
He looked so appalled Yoongi laughed out loud, weaving an arm around Jimin's waist. The sound echoed in the empty yard with fallen trees and a rusty swings set that noone rode in a very long time. Jimin looked around and the vision of the happy memory fell apart.
Thick tears spilled out of Jimin's eyes and Yoongi rushed to wipe them away with his thumbs, cupping Jimin's face.
- Why are you crying, love? We're back, we're home. It's over.
Jimin sniffed, still looking at the rusty swing.
- You know, coming back here... It felt like a quest. We set off in search of the so-called new life in this place and I've just realised that we came to say goodbye. The last remnants of childhood are gone now.
Yoongi pressed a gentle kiss to his boyfriend's forehead.
- We came to say the words of gratitude. This place has become the starting ground for us. Don't mourn it. We will build everything anew.
- Are you going to tell me about dreaming of flying to outer space or free education for all? - Jimin chuckled wetly.
- We can start with much more mundane things. Let's say...
Yoongi looked at one of the numerous piles with belongings that were broken and abandoned here. He struggled to open one of the drawers of the cupboard that laid there, half buried and broken.
- How about this?
He was holding an organizer for kitchen utensils.
- This thing doesn't make any sense, - Jimin shook his head.
- Oh Jiminie. It makes so much sense. If we fill this out with stuff we use it means we cook often. We eat well. There's a place for quite a bit of items, more than the two of us need. It means we have guests over. We're not alone.
Jimin pushed his forehead into Yoongi's shoulders like an overgrown cat. Yoongi has always been good with words. If the symbol of the new life he so badly wanted is this utensils box, he can work with that. It was only the beginning.