Galaxies and Oceans

Hyung don't say that

Yoongi Hyung, who has always shied away from physical touch, has been cradling his hands softly on Tae's scalp to soothe his sleep, and Tae can be seen almost purring at the touch. I watch, standing outside Hyung's room, the room is usually closed off to others but some days when Tae gets really drunk Hyung lets him sleep on his mattress, scolding him but nevertheless adding extra pillows and blankets.

Soon, I find myself accompanied by Jimin, his limbs leaning on the side table as he observes Hyung setting a blanket on Tae, "he dots on him, a lot", he remarks, observing them," I didn't realize, he can be this patient".

It took me months to start small talks with Yoongi Hyung, following Tae into the studio which resembled more of a ghostly dungeon, it takes time. To get rid of melancholy after hearing Tae's words I entertain Jimin "He is just less expressive, doesn't mean he don't care".

"It's good that he didn't have a father growing up", his world muddled together as the result of too many drinks. He has an inscrutable look, eyes reddened by shots of alcohol, the thought of his father crosses my brain, Park Jimin's father, a tall gloomy presence, his toneless words leaving chills across the person being addressed, the father who once nearly broke his son's legs for defiance.

"Having a father can be ominous, they can leave scars worse than their absence", he states off-handed.

I have some idea, if my mother is ruthless in getting things the way she wants, leaving no stone unturned in matters of manipulation then Mr.Park is a belligerent man, his habit of throwing tantrums with other's ending up in the ER is not an uncommon occurrence. His tantrums were the main reason why Mrs. Park used to leave the siblings at our place.

The rumors of Mr. Park sending his son to the ICU for fractured legs were not scuttlebutts, after all. Unconditionally, my eyes travel to his legs, clad in loose pants after office hours.

He had a resentful father but maybe if Taehyung's father was with him, this sadness would not surround him, this emptiness would be replaced with something, my thoughts are interrupted by Jimin's words "It's funny, how the world works".

It is. Filled with ifs and buts, if Dad was still here, my life would be so different, if. Maybe Taehyung could have a fatherly figure, maybe then he wouldn't miss his father. But he is not here, he is far away enjoying his life and I am here.

"Has he ever attempted anything". Jimin's words bring me back from the thoughts of what could have been.

"Attempted what?"

"You know what I mean?"

"No, I don't". The exhaustion causes a weariness in my voice, evident for him to hear.

"'The one who should have died was me' his words, not mine."

The insinuation flares my exhausted limbs, "Jimin, what the fuck do you mean by that". Even with my hands hard on his collar, he smiles, a sarcastic lift of his lips.

Jimin, with his psychotic father and Mommy issues, what the fuck does he even know. Just because he has been in the industry with so many suicidal people, "You know what I mean. You have seen the look in his eyes, that sadness, it infests and corrodes. Just putting on a pretty smile wouldn't cover it up".

"Yoongi Hyung could also see it, maybe that's why...."

My grip loosens, feet staggering, I leave to get away from him, and his corrosive words. Jimin, how could he say that, so carelessly, so brutally? The memory emerges, blurry but the words clear, his monologue entailed with a smile.

My pace quickens, opening the side door to the corridor, embracing the coldness, I move away from him.

It was during the last days of college, and one of the students jumped from the admin block, his body, blooded and battered was found on the floor. The boy and the herd of students gathered around. His mother arrived sometime later. I remember it took weeks for the college to reopen. I remember, what he had said.