4pm | pjm. √

3pm

Everyday when the hour hand strikes 4, I would sit up groggily on the bed, the hospital gown filling my blurry field of vision. It was all too agonizing, the days that passed without meaning and my heart beat resonating into my ears like a repeated reminder that I'm alive.

But he would stop me before my attempt to suicide. He knew well that I wanted to be gone and away, and he kept me here. The others would use physical means to drag me back, but Jimin would bring back some light in my eyes so I would last until tomorrow's 4pm.

"Do you see the trail in the sky?" He points outside the hospital window. I turned to the view outside that I never noticed, because I was consumed in my own negativity. He showed me the beauty that is the world, and he gave me a reason to continue to the next hour.

"You see, the long trail is made by airplanes that fly past. When the air is humid, they leave a lingering mark in the sky." He explains to me with a sweet smile. I listened intently to his pure remarks, comforted by the genuineness that was his words. Everytime he talked to me, I never managed to find a hidden motive, unlike the rest.

One particular day when I lied down motionlessly on the bed, staring into the ceiling with emptiness filling the atmosphere of my heart, he called for me.

I glanced over to my side, to see a Jimin with foreign looking pipes that stuck out of his body. I was horrified at the machines working to pump life into his deteriorating body.

"why do you choose the same time everyday?" He asks cautiously, sticking his hand out to reach me. I unconsciously held it for a while, the both of us silently staring without a word being exchanged.

"I was born at exactly 4pm," I answered.

"I wanted to die at the same time, so it was like I never existed."