(Jimin POV)
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I walked past my house.
Instead, I walked on the other sidewalk, following the path to a friend's house. My sneakers crunched the frozen grass, snowflakes landing on my eyelashes.
It reminded me of him, how his lashes were long enough to capture snowflakes, how the black pigment would become even darker when they melted against them, his eyes closing to hug his bottom and top lash lines together.
A two-storey brick house greeted me and I walked up the steps, not feeling any weight.
How blue suddenly became my favourite colour because it was apparent in all the prettiest parts of him.
I knocked on the door, harder each time for my knuckles felt numb.
How he was right in all that he said.
The door opened, and a groggy Taehyung greeted me with a boxy smile. It faltered when I didn't smile back, walking in to remove my shoes.
I don't remember taking my backpack off, perhaps Tae had helped it off, as I made way down to his basement, the comforting smell of his used paintbrushes filling the air.
I don't even remember sitting on an easel, when I saw a palette of blue and orange paint mixed together, and I buried my face in my hands.
All I remember is Taehyung wrapping his arms around me, asking me whether my Mum, or my Dad, or our financial status was okay.
Whether I had a disease or an incurable sickness, whether my Mum did, whether my Dad did, whether all of a sudden all of us did and I shook my head at all of that, tears buried at the back of my throat and eyes.
"I ended it," I lifted my head, letting him see the patheticness of it all. Tears rolled down as I told him truthfully, "I-I became scared and I left him."
"Jimin," his eyes widened, surprise and empathy and anger clouding his tongue. "What the fuck? Why? Stop crying and tell me why you would do such a thing!"
"Because!" I stood up, knocking down the stool. "I don't know who the fuck I am anymore."
"I-I don't feel for shit anymore, b-but I feel everything when I'm with him, which scares me and angers me that when he's gone I won't feel anything at all."
My cries became hysterical as reality dawned on me with full force.
"Yes, I'm scared. Yes, I'm so fucking scared that even he won't be able to make me feel anything anymore."
I ended up on the floor, my hands over my head, crying to let out all the words I didn't mean, all the words that weren't true, and he knew.
He knew I didn't mean what I said, he had seen right through me.
I gasped into my hands as I cried, letting go of the mental grip I had exercised for so long over my head and chest.
"I love him," I bawled and Taehyung sat beside me, pulling my head into his lap.
He stroked my hair and whisperd soft sounds to lull me in quiet hope.
"Tae, I-I, I love him, a-and I don't want to think about it, because I know I love him,"
"I believe you," he replied, tracing patterns into my burning scalp. "You don't need to explain anything."
"I know you like theories and definitions and control. But," he brushed his lips against the crown of my head, "there'll always be things inside of us that can't ever be explained."
"And that's why it bothers us our whole lives because we spend describing something that's beyond the words us humans have created."
"How can you define something so beautiful using words that can't ever be enough?"
"You love him, and I'm sure he's hoping to hear you say those words."
"Taehyung."
"Hm?"
"Why don't you stop liking me?"
He chuckled, continuing to trace patterns as my head lay in his lap.
"Do I have a choice, Jimin-ie?" A smile coated his teasing words.
"Doesn't that piss you off? The lack of control?"
"Hmm," his low voice rumbled. "Nah."
"Why?"
"Because there's beauty in what I feel for you. Yes, you don't love me back, and that used to make me angry, but," he exhaled, "these feelings are for you, and anything related to you is worth enduring."
"Now, you can argue that maybe 'beauty' isn't the right word for this, but like I said, the words us humans have created won't ever come close to describing what we feel."
"So," he sighed an earthy sigh, "I'll stick with the first one that comes to my head."
"When did you find out I had these feelings for you? You were oblivious all these years." He asked.
I turned my head to face him, blinking tired lids.
"I saw Jungkook in you when you looked at me."
"He looks at me the way you do sometimes." I further explained.
"Ahh, smart," he winked and grinned in his signature boxy smile. "You know, your fear's still there."
"How?"
"You just asked me when I'd stop liking you --- you don't even give yourself the right to say 'love'."
"Is love really what will take all of the numbness from," I pointed to my head, "here away?"
"You tell me. You said you loved him, does he take the numbness away from your head?"
"Yes, but only when he's with me."
"So what's the problem?"
"That it comes back when hes's gone."
"But you still left him."
I remained quiet, regret pooling into my cheeks as embarrassment.
"Look at me and listen very carefully."
I did.
"It's not his responsibility to fix you. All this bullshit we see in movies, how they portray the main leads 'fixing each other', none of that is real, and we end up expecting to feel like we're on cloud nine when we find someone. We end up expecting them to take away the sadness that we ourselves could never take away. What kind of fucking logic is that?"
His brown eyes steadied mine,
"if you feel happy when he's with you, then that's love right there," he pointed at me. "We think we have to make up this fucking intricate definition of love or something --- fuck that shit."
"You're telling me you're going to waste time making up stories within your head about how it could fail or crash or burn when the person in front of you is better than any story you could ever come up with."
"The dumbass who came up with the expression, 'falling in love' wasn't wrong. It separates the pussies from the fearless ones; those that think loving requires uncontrollable falling and walk away, and those that realize that the word 'falling' is only there to scare you, and just love instead."
"So tell me, are you fearless or fearing in love?"
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