Sometimes all we need is closure from the past to be able to move on.
Character / Genre: Park Jimin x You/Reader| Pianist!au, Artist!Reader, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut
(Note: Completed)
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Prelude
/ˈprel.juːd/ | a movement or section of a work that comes before another movement or section of a work.
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It was raining when you first met. You had arrived at your new apartment building a few hours before the movers came in to drop all of your things. You were soaked from rain, with two boxes of housewares and a huge suitcase in your unsteady arms. He was about to enter the building vicinity when he saw you coming, swiftly catching your belongings as they were slipping right out of your tired grip.
You remembered his smile, as bright as the sunny day as he waited for you on the elevator, then continued to help with your things with that exact same smile still plastered on his face all the way up to your floor. You remembered how smooth his voice was, as sweet as cotton candy, when he introduced himself, "I'm Jimin. I live next door." And you remembered his laughter, when you sat on the floor of your empty apartment, both of you were covered in blankets and dry towels wrapped around your heads, each of you holding cups of hot chocolate in your hands which he made to warm your bodies.
It was raining the second time you met. You had disposed your umbrella somewhere along the way and had let yourself got drenched under the hard rain. You were on your way back home from getting the rest of your belongings which were still left at the last apartment where you lived in; the old place where you shared your life and memories with your ex-boyfriend for the past 2 years before the day you left.
You had your final fight that day, the one final goodbye. You had arrived too soon than promised, only to find the main reason of your breakup, the red-haired woman he constantly brought home whenever you were away, opening the door for you to confirm how right you were when you made your decision to leave. You were broken for the second time that day. The first being the day when you came home merely weeks ago to find him sleeping on the bed, and the woman sleeping naked in his arms who was not you.
You could feel every bit of your heart shattering into little specks of dust as the pain continued to seep in through your cells with every step you took towards your new home, both from the memory of that very day coming back into your mind and to the feeling of defeat you felt since you walked out that door just moments ago. Lost, lonely, and deeply wounded, all you could do then was to stand under the rain. Hoping that the drops of water falling on your face would not only wash away your tears, but also your remaining pain.
