Chapter Text
Past the end of this cold winter,
Until the spring comes again,
Until the flowers bloom again;
Stay there a little longer.
Stay there.
The sun had already been high in the sky by the time they woke up; it hadn't set for a few days now. That should have been unusual, but strange weather and disturbed days and nights were some of the more pleasant consequences of the end of the world. The boys barely blinked an eye when the sun forgot to rise or fall, these days.
Another consequence that should have been unusual but was, unfortunately, not, was the momentary disappearance of one of their number.
Namjoon pulled his hood up against the brief blizzard that had swarmed across the sky in the last few minutes, crossing the parking lot to the row of motel rooms that he shared with his friends. Yoongi was sat outside with Hoseok leaning on the wall beside him, watching the snow as it fell. They turned to him as he approached.
"Jimin," was all he said, and that was all he had to say. They exchanged a look, hurriedly following Namjoon indoors.
At the sound of the door, a worried face poked out from the adjacent kitchen, his brown hair falling into his eyes. "Nothing?" Seokjin asked.
"I can't find him anywhere," Namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He scanned the room, watching Yoongi and Hoseok sit down on the sofa and spotting Taehyung behind Jin in the kitchen. "Where the fuck is Kook?"
"He went to the train station to see if the train is there," Taehyung called, sucking sauce from his fingers. "He'll be back soon, hyung, don't worry."
"Good. One kid missing is bad enough," Namjoon grumbled.
"Oh, don't say that, he isn't missing," Jin complained, his teeth boring into the skin by his thumbnail. "I hate it when he does this. He's - well, he's hardly in his right mind. I'd rather he stay where we can take care of him."
"You'd rather we all stay where you can take care of us," Hoseok grinned, though rather darkly. Jin was right; Jimin didn't seem to realise that he shouldn't go off on his own. He didn't seem to realise what was happening around them. The others were rather jealous of his blissful, childlike ignorance.
When the world around them had changed, Jimin had been the most affected. The sight of the fire in the sky, the way the rain seemed to fall from clouds that didn't exist, the way the greenery started to slowly wilt and die before their eyes; it had been too much for him. He seemed in denial, living in a fantasy world that had never changed. He talked about flowers every day, though none of them had seen a flower for over two years. They preferred it when he talked about his fantasy world; the alternative was that he didn't speak at all.
The door opened again and Jungkook pushed inside, breathless and peppered with snowflakes. "The train's gone," he panted, pulling his cardigan tighter around his lithe frame. "He's gone."
"I'm going to find him," Jin said, leaving the kitchen and moving towards the door.
Namjoon reached out and grabbed the taller boy's wrist. "Hyung, don't." His voice was pained, his grip tight to stop his friend from leaving. “He’ll come back, he always does. Besides, we should stay together, right?”
Jin had a moment of indecision, before finally sighing and gently pulling his hand free. “It’s snowing,” he mumbled sadly, gazing imploringly at the others. Jungkook looked at his feet, chewing his lips uncomfortably. Yoongi and Hoseok exchanged another look.
“It’s okay, hyung,” Taehyung said from the doorway of the kitchen, his warm smile lighting up his face. “Jiminie loves the snow. He thinks it’s petals.”
*
After a few hours, Jimin still had not returned. It must have been nearing evening at that point, though none of them had any way of knowing. Even Yoongi, who often left the kids to their own devices, found himself sat in the garden chair by the door, peering through the snow for any sign of Jimin’s baby pink hair. Jin was beside himself with worry, pacing back and forth through the row of rooms, complaining that the younger boy hadn’t been fed before leaving that morning.
Taehyung, after noticing that the sun had not budged all day, announced that he would go to the train station to see if the train had come back, bringing Jimin with it. Jin wasn’t happy with that decision, but he eventually relented.
“It’s okay, hyung, Tae will be fine,” Namjoon smiled, wrapping an arm around the taller boy. “He’ll come right back, won’t you?”
Namjoon fixed his gaze onto Taehyung, raising his eyebrows. Taehyung grinned, nodding. “Of course. Right back.”
The walk to the train station wasn’t long, but trudging through the snow made his steps shorter, and the ice in the air made him breathless before too long. The snow was no longer falling, but lay in a thick blanket on the ground, crunching under his feet. As a child, Taehyung loved to walk in freshly fallen snow, loved seeing his footsteps behind him, loved being the first person to step into the newly discovered winter world. These days, Taehyung hated it. It only reminded him of how very alone they were.
He could see, from a distance, that the train had pulled into the station, though the sight did nothing to comfort him. It had been there a while; if it had pulled up recently, he would have heard it during his walk. There was nothing else around them to make a sound, nothing moving, nothing even living.
Jimin was nowhere to be seen.
Taehyung clambered down from the platform to the rails. He couldn’t help himself; whenever he came here alone, he had to try. He had to just check, even though he knew, even though the affirmation did nothing to ease the heaviness in his heart.
He wandered to the end of the train where the rails stretched out into the white emptiness for miles upon miles, stretching to the other end of Jeju Island. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the way the snow immediately soaked his shins to the bone. Slowly, carefully, he gripped the rail, dusted with the snow that had fallen after Jimin returned. He leaned down, resting his temple against the freezing metal, his gaze following the path of the rails.
He’d known from the second he touched it, when he’d felt no vibration; there was nothing there. No carriages travelling along the rail, no people or animals walking over the sleepers, not even anything moving around near the track. If there was, it would carry to him, travelling through his fingers and his skin.
Taehyung hated doing this, but he couldn’t help it. He dreamed of the day where he’d grip the rail and feel the movement that meant life, somewhere, anywhere out there. But it had never happened. It would probably never happen.
They were completely alone.
*
With no way of knowing when night was due to fall, the boys waited until exhaustion took them. Jimin didn’t return that evening, and his absence was glaringly obvious. The room seemed duller without his pink hair, his bright eyes and wide smile. Everyone was a little bit quieter than usual, even though they knew he’d done this before, and knew he’d come back. It wasn’t like anything was out there to hurt him. It was like Hoseok said; they were happier together, where they could stay close.
A few months after the world had ended, they had tugged two of the double beds from the motel rooms together, choosing to sleep together rather than alone. Nightmares were common, and there was nothing more comforting than waking up to see yourself surrounded by your family. Not to mention, with so few people left in the universe, they sometimes became starved of affection. Falling asleep in a friend’s arms was a luxury they weren’t sure they deserved, but valued all the same.
And so, that night, with the sun still pouring through the gaps in the curtains and under the door, the six friends lay tangled, some holding hands, some with arms thrown over another’s waist, some with tangled legs. They needed the affection now more than ever, what with Jimin’s absence.
Somehow, they had fallen asleep, even with their worries lying heavily on their shoulders. They were dreamless, but also somewhat restless, tossing and turning and grumbling as they slept.
They awoke to the door slamming open, sunlight threatening to blind them as they jerked awake, kicking each other in their panic.
Jimin had ran into the room, his cheeks rosy and his eyes wild.
“J-Jiminie, what the fuck?” Namjoon grumbled, guarding his eyes from the sun. Yoongi fell back to the bed, breathing a heavy sigh of both relief and exasperation, tugging Jin’s arm to cover his eyes.
For some reason, Jimin ran straight to Hoseok, his pink hair bouncing as he rushed across the room. “Hobi-hyung,” he beamed, sitting on the bed beside his friend.
Hoseok glanced back at the others who were settling back down, still watching Jimin nervously. He put an arm around Jimin tentatively, not wanting to spoil the other’s radiant smile, but undeniably shaken. “What is it?” he asked softly.
Jimin was holding something tightly in his small hands, close to his chest as though it was the most precious thing in the world. He slowly held it out to Hoseok, and the older boy could almost hear the boy’s heartbeat hammering away at his chest. “I picked you a flower, hyung,” Jimin whispered, enchanted, his gaze on his palms.
It wasn’t a flower. All the flowers had died when the world ended. It was a stick, short and blackened with age, but Jimin transferred it to Hoseok’s hands as though it was a rose made of spun glass. Hoseok felt like he could have cried.
“Jiminie,” he sighed, looking up at the boy, who somehow looked simultaneously like dawn and dusk. His smile was stunning, bright and wide and glittering, and his eyes were curved into happy crescents in a way that Hoseok hadn’t seen in months. He became aware that his other friends were watching him worriedly, both scared of Jimin’s fantasy and scared that Hoseok will upset him. “Come on, come lie down.”
Jimin tottered away and closed the door, then squeezed onto the end of the bed, curling into Hoseok’s chest. The older boy wrapped his arms tightly around his friend, still clutching the stick in his fist. Jimin was freezing to the touch, but he sighed happily as though he had never been more comfortable in his life. Hoseok smoothed a hand over the boy’s hair, his heart heavy and full.
He thought Jimin had fallen asleep; the room had filled with the even breathing of his friends and the occasional snore from Namjoon. Then, Jimin spoke, his voice soft and quiet against Hoseok’s collarbone.
“Do you like it, hyung?”
Hoseok swallowed down the lump in his throat before nodding, holding Jimin a little bit closer.
“It’s beautiful, Jiminie. Thank you.”