Chapter 19

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《I look up to the sky to talk to you, because I know I can't look beside me to see you there anymore

Get ready for some trippy shit

- cute-namjoonie ♡

JIMIN'S POV

I clambered through the doorway, fingers clutching the peeling, white frame. My chubby fingertips dug into the wood, the pressure making the skin turn a lighter hue. I shakily stepped into the room, the gentle scent of cigarettes wafting into my nose, alongside the sweet smell of apples. I cringed; the familiar scent reminding me of Yoongi. I closed my eyes and breathed out a deep sigh, breath reverberating as it slipped past my lips to escape into the silent room. My grip on the doorway loosened, and I felt myself fall to my knees in a wretched heap, the carpet rubbing uncomfortably against my shins. Dragging my hands up my crumpled legs, I began to sob into my palms. My tears trickled down my wrist, but each inch of my hand felt like it was covered in Yoongi's warm, sticky blood, the thought immediately making me whimper and recoil from my own limbs. I stared at my hands, the thought of crimson staining each crevice making bile rise in my throat. I turned my head to the side, choking up sickly yellow vomit onto the clean carpet. Cringing at the taste in my mouth, I had realised that the bitterness had tasted somewhat metallic. Cautiously, I placed my index and middle finger into my mouth, pulling out a string of red saliva. I choked at the sight of blood, breath immediately hitching sharply in my throat.

Tilting my head back to look at the ceiling, I let out another sigh. My eyes were now open, staring at the dull white paint that was layered thickly onto the slab above. Reaching out my hand, I attempted to grab something, anything, to feel his touch again. My lips parted, and tears pricked my eyes once again.

"Y-Yoongi?" I started, eyes still glued upwards. Breathing was the only sound heard, and I continued looking up, softly talking.

"Yoongi I miss you. You're not dead; you'd never give up that easily, right? We're still gonna be that old couple that bickers about stupid stuff like what to have for dinner, yeah? So wake up for me, please, wake up so I know that we can live like that. I want to be Min Jimin, Yoongi. I want you to hold me at night, for us to get married, for us to have kids. I want that. I want you - forever. Wake up f-for me, y-yeah? Y-Yoongi, g-give me a s-sign; anyth-thing, p-pleas-se," and at that moment, I had sworn that I felt some sort of breeze drift past me, the soft gliding of hands across my back. But I laughed weakly, my head falling forwards to stare at my wrists. My finger traced up and down my arm, the way Yoongi used to when he'd try to calm me down.

"W-where are y-you when I n-need you, Yoon-ngi? W-wake me up-p, I b-beg y-you," I whispered weakly, my voice wavering after each word. Each crack in my speech was like another crack in my heart, and I began to shake violently, the tears relentlessly flowing down my cheeks. They dripped onto my thighs, seeping through the denim, the warmth settling onto my skin. My breath hitched and I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to replicate the skinny arms of my boyfriend. Slowly, I rocked back and forth, imagining me sitting on Yoongi's lap as he would try to put me to sleep. But his touch wasn't there, and I found myself crying and heaving into my crossed arms.

"Yoongi, Y-Yoongi, Yoon-ngi," I chanted, voice cracking after each repetition of his name. Some tears slipped past my parted lips, the salty flavour settling onto my tongue, mingling with the sour taste of vomit. I shook my head weakly, refusing to believe that Yoongi wasn't here. Sobs wracked through my body, my chanting quietening to soft whispers; almost mantra-like. I squeezed my eyes shut, breath quickening in pace and head feeling light. My grip tightened on my arms, rocking slowing down, and I felt my body go limp and hit the floor.

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