Jungkook p.o.v
this is,
--
The sky was a delicate grey today, not a blanket of cotton in sight.
It hadn't been blue again ever since he had left, taking all the shades of it with him. Even the night sky was no longer navy blue - it was black.
The blue and pink veins which had adorned my naked palms no longer swam together to create a rueful lilac. They separated, farther and farther from each other to splash a chalky grey upon these cold hands.
Even the word 'forevermore' itself was a lie. It was selfish, hungry for the more even after it had been promised the elusive forever. But a word as that can only be invented from the hearts of lovers, those which hope to grasp infinity and selfishly beg for more, albeit only with each other.
If I hadn't ever met him, I would've never known twinkled eyes and porcelain skin, like rays of silver moonlight along water, how breathtaking eyes could look when tears brimmed along their lashes, how home was a place on a human body and each sigh and whisper could hold me together, how even the ugliest parts of me that looked like tragedy were suddenly perceived as beauty.
I remembered the way I had seen his brown eyes for the first time, the way they shone in that hospital room as I was caught off guard by the beautiful, warm smile that followed on those pink lips, despite me trying to block him out, despite me trying to treat him like shit.
I remembered the way I had seen him run his fingers through his silky, black hair when he had given me that sketch pad and charcoal pencils for the first time, a faint blush dusting the dewy apples of his cheeks, despite me trying not to look into his eyes, despite me trying not to fall.
I remembered the way my cold, cold skin felt against the warm flesh of his, against those strong arms that refused to let me feel pain all alone, against that heartbeat that was always in sync with mine, despite me trying to tell myself that he wasn't worth it, despite me trying to tell myself he'll hurt me.
I remembered the way his eyes had teared up when he'd seen my scars, the way his touch shook me to the core as his fingers traced them and his lips kissed them, promising me that he'd never let them be wounds again, despite me trying so hard not to cry, despite me trying not to become afraid.
I remembered the way the police officers and paramedics had gotten there before me as I ran past the blaring ambulance in the parking lot, a symphony of defeaning instruments, and up the stairs and into the apartment room, screaming and yelling at them to let me see him, until one of them had held me back and told me he wasn't here, despite me trying to tell himself that he was still alive, despite me trying not to jump from the balcony myself.
I remembered the way Yoongi's eyes were crying as he was told by the surgeons they couldn't save his patient, his best friend, his unrequited love, the way he mumbled 'no' over and over again and sank to the floor in the middle of the hospital's hallway, sobbing in between his knees.
I remembered the way they all had told me that he had died instantly after falling and that no matter how many times I would beg them to save him and to bring him back, his heartbeat back, his laughter back, his warmth back, his beautiful existence back, there was no point.
I remembered the way I had gripped the doctor's collar and screamed and cried in his face, to bring him back, to go back in there and try again, to not lie, to just not fucking lie and to let me go in there and see him myself.
