Chapter Text
“…and when one’s heart is broken by the one they truly love… they will gradually lose their ability to speak, become only able to repeat the last few words of others’ speeches, until they fall in love with someone else.”
Jimin put down his pen, admiring the twenty-page report he had just written—yes, by hand, because his professor was sadistic that way—and leaning back in his chair, feeling his spine creak.
He stood up, stretching his arms above his head until he heard a small pop in his lower back. Rubbing his exhausted eyes, he glanced at the clock and groaned at the time.
7 AM.
There really wasn’t time to catch a quick shut-eye or anything like that, so with a heavy sigh, he stapled the papers together, and placed them in his bag, along with his laptop and a slim pencil case that contained a pen and two pencils.
As he made his coffee, he hummed to himself, tired but satisfied with his research paper about Echo’s Disease.
After he poured the coffee into a thermos—with sufficient milk and sugar to ensure that no bitterness lingered—he stepped out of his small but cozy apartment, and made his way to class.
“You’re in a good mood.”
Jimin turned toward the voice, grinning as his best friend sat down next to him. “Does it seem like it?”
“You’re never happy on Thursday mornings,” Taehyung said, squinting his eyes at the orange-haired boy. He leaned sideways, crossing his arms as he stared at Jimin suspiciously. “What’s got you so jovial on this not-fine Thursday morning?”
The older male mimicked Taehyung’s actions, leaning toward the opposite direction while his shoulders shrugged upwards, elbows tucked in to his side, and palms faced upwards toward the ceiling. “Guess who finished their research paper.”
Taehyung immediately sprang forward into his direction, eyes wide and jaw slack in angry disbelief. “You finished your paper?! Before I did?!”
A smug grin spread on Jimin’s face as he rolled his shoulders back and brushed away the invisible specks of dust on his shirt. “Now, now, don’t be too jealous, child. But the winner of this round is the all-too-fantastic, super-smart Park Jimin.”
Friends since high school, they had coincidentally made it to the same college, both aiming for medicine majors, and since realizing that they pretty much had the same schedule, started up this strange competition.
A competition of “Let’s see who can write the best research paper faster.” And the loser would have to buy ice cream for the winner.
As Taehyung moped about his loss, Jimin pulled out his filed papers, laying it flat against the desk. Taehyung snatched it away, scanning through the contents and humming quietly. “Why Echo’s Disease, anyway? Isn’t it relatively new?”
“It sounded interesting,” Jimin said, shrugging.
Echo’s Disease—it was a very complicated, very selective disease. It was something that took roots on your tongue once your heart was broken.
There was a distinct difference between crushes and loves—with crushes, your heart would thump a little, and your eyes would wander to that person every once in a while. But love—love was different. It was sweet, tantalizing, tender. When you are in love, your breath stops for a while when you see that special someone; your eyes would refuse to blink as they zoomed in on the beloved, your heart would go beyond just thumping and threaten to burst, and your ears would ring from the blood that rushed to your head. Desires would bloom—desire to hold hands, desire to kiss, desire to embrace.
And Echo’s Disease only appeared once your heart was shattered by the beloved. The longer you mulled over the pain, the more your ability to speak would decrease; the final stage of the disease before death was evident when you could only repeat the last few words of the sentences spoken to you. A week after this stage, your ability to speak would come back for a day, and on that same day, you would perish.
There were only two ways to cure Echo’s Disease. If you managed to get over the heartbreak, Echo’s Disease would mysteriously disappear, and your ability to speak would come back slowly.
The other option was to erase all memories of the beloved using the technology newly developed to combat this disease.
It was a disease Jimin had hoped he wouldn’t have to encounter in the future.
Yet he found himself in this position, watching as Taehyung’s eyes brightened at the sight of a familiar, doe-eyed male, them making eye contact and shyly smiling, before the younger—Jeon Jungkook—made his way toward Taehyung, saying a soft “hi” before a fleeting kiss was exchanged.
Jimin smiled at them, unable to turn his gaze away, and physically felt words and sentences die on his tongue.
It was getting more and more obvious, Jimin knew this. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to tell Taehyung that he needed time away from him, a chance to get over him, or to erase Taehyung from his life.
The first person who experienced Jimin’s stuttering speech was Hoseok, during their daily dance practice.
It was just the two of them, dancing their newly formed choreography, mucking around every now and then, gasping for air after the bursts of laughter.
Jimin had been saying something about Hoseok’s dance being amazing, when his tongue froze and a word was muted.
The silence that followed was deafening, as Hoseok gaped at Jimin. Nervously, the elder laughed. “Stumbling over your tongue, Jimin?”
The younger boy also let out a chuckle. “I guess I’m just t--…”
When Jimin tried to form the word once again, twice, thrice, Hoseok realized.
He clutched Jimin’s shoulders and shook him. “Who is it?”
Jimin gulped, shaking his head slowly, forcing a smile onto his face. “It’s—it’s not like that, Hoseok—…”
“Don’t bullshit me, Park Jimin,” an uncharacteristic growl tore itself from Hoseok’s throat. “Who. Is. It?”
Inhale. Exhale.
Just as Jimin opened his mouth, Taehyung burst into the studio, an exasperated Jungkook trailing behind him. Taehyung yelled something about wanting to join in on practice because Jungkook was “So damn good at dancing,” and Hoseok had laughed and said that he needed to talk with Jimin first, in private.
As Taehyung turned on the music and Jungkook began to stretch, Hoseok realized that Jimin’s attention was elsewhere.
He looked back and forth between Jimin and the end of his gaze, and realized.
“… Taehyung?” he asked under his breath, and Jimin’s eyes dropped to the ground.
Hoseok wrapped his arms around the boy, who didn’t struggle for once.
“We’re setting you up with people right away,” Hoseok said.
Jimin let out a shaky laugh at that.
No one.
No one had been enough for Jimin to make him forget about that boxy smile, that playful attitude, that gentle, angelic soul.
One by one, Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon all learned about Jimin’s condition, and had all pitched in to help find someone new for Jimin, or do anything to make him get over his heartbreak, but it was difficult to kill a love that had been so carefully nurtured since years ago.
And as days passed, Jimin grew more and more frustrated at how much words were being muted in his sentences.
“You need to go get your memories erased,” Jin said, once the group was settled in the cafeteria table.
Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok all grunted in agreement, their foods forgotten as they stared at Jimin, who fidgeted nervously under their gazes.
The orange-haired male shook his head furiously, much to the frustration of the upperclassmen.
“Listen here, you stubborn brat,” Yoongi snapped quietly, shoving the food trays aside so that he could lean forward on his elbows. “You don’t really have a choice. You didn’t like ANYONE that we introduced to you, and you’re definitely NOT forgetting about Taehyung any time soon by the way things are going. Oh, and you’re approaching final stage. You’re dying, Park Jimin.”
Jimin opened his mouth to argue, but at the elder’s intimidating stare, hung his head and stared at his laps, teeth digging into his lower lip.
“One m--… week,” Jimin said quietly, to which Namjoon let out a huff.
“Jimin, we all know you most likely won’t last a week. Final stage would hit any time now.”
Jimin’s tongue felt heavy.
The next day, Jimin was seated on the hospital bed, watching as the IV needle was stuck into his hand, tugging the blanket up more as cold air reached his skin through the thin material of the hospital gown.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jimin turned to the voice, blinking curiously at his best friend. Taehyung’s usual bright smile wasn’t there, replaced by a somber, almost betrayed look.
Jimin didn’t say anything.
“I thought I was your best friend,” Taehyung said, tone defeated. “How come everyone else knew except me? Who is it anyway?”
Silence followed again.
“Jimin--…”
“It’s time,” the nurse announced, popping in. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to finish your conversation later.”
As the nurse began to lock the bars to the wheeled bed, Jimin quickly scribbled something on the notepad previously provided to him to use to communicate.
He held it up for Taehyung to read.
“Tell me that you love me ; )”
Taehyung looked at the playfully smiling Jimin with a flabbergasted expression. Jimin was going to get rid of the memories of the person he loved to the point where he got Echo’s Disease, and he had the audacity to joke around like this. Unbelievable.
The nurse unlocked the wheels. Taehyung quickly grasped the bar on the bed.
“I love you,” Taehyung blurted, still puzzled as to why Jimin had asked for him to say it. It wasn’t out of the normal, really, because they always said it to each other. Was Jimin just nervous, or--…
“You.”
And Taehyung watched as the teasing smile turned melancholy, but it seemed as though a heavy weight had been lifted from his best friend’s shoulders.
The word echoed in his head as Jimin disappeared into the surgery room.
“You.”
Jimin had been told that he had been involved in a minor accident, resulting in a concussion which came with some memory impairments as a consequence.
Which was a lie, but really, what could you tell an Echo’s Disease patient without triggering them to find out who it was that they had loved so dearly?
The hospital room was filled with quiet chatters and murmurs.
Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, and Yoongi had gone in to see Jimin already.
Taehyung had been standing outside the door for eternity, the word You still resonating in his head, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach and making him sick.
And after what seemed like hours, he finally put his hand on the door knob, and with an inhale, he twisted it and creaked the heavy door open.
All eyes turned to him.
Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, and Yoongi saw who it was, and slowly looked away.
Jimin’s bright eyes twinkled in curiosity, and a bright, friendly smile took over his face.
A sunny, blinding, beautiful smile that Taehyung realized he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.
Ever since he had announced his relationship with Jungkook.
“Hello! I don’t think I know you. Are you in the wrong room?”
Taehyung felt the world stop.
The smile dropped into a concerned frown.
“Are you alright? You’re crying…”
Taehyung blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears without much success, and breathed out.
“Yeah… sorry,” he finally managed. “It’s just…”
A shaky, fragile smile took its place on his face.
“I lost my best friend today.”