KILL'ER • BTS

0 . R U L E D

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❝ ᴏғғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴅɪsᴇᴀsᴇ ❞

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ＨＩＳ ＰＯＶ

At first, I thought twice before walking into Jimin's new office, thinking three times before looking at him in the eyes as well. Frankly, as much as I wanted to run away from those colourless windows and melancholic walls, I had no choice.

I was born waiting for those hours to come, and I was well aware of what they meant.

"I can bet you're excited, Jungkook." Jimin eyed me with a smile traced on his lips, looking back at the screen of his computer.

Like everybody else, Jimin couldn't feel prouder, which was completely understandable. Observing me right in front of him ready to assume the position we had been working on for years caused him to silently smile, a simple singular smile I knew meant a bunch of too many things. He had watched and assisted my life since the very beginning, standing by my side every time I needed and every time I didn't. 

So, at that moment, like everybody else, Jimin couldn't feel prouder.

In their eyes, in their perspective, I was ready, joyful and accomplished. Nevertheless, in reality, I was way more anxious, nervous and afraid. I had tears in the edges of my eyes but, in their point of vision, it was all for happiness, pleasure and satisfaction.

Why would I be unhappy? Why was I the only one unable to enjoy the moment? They couldn't understand.

"Your father watches you every time, Jungkook. He's firmly clapping his hands, standing with his feet together, pressing his lips into a smile." Talking unhurriedly, Jimin glanced at me once again, acting as if the walls weren't as deaf as they were thought to be, acting as if he hadn't noticed the dampness around my eyeballs.

"You know he's not here." Not even thinking straight, I looked down at my sweaty hands, my throat swallowing hard as my teeth apprehensively scratched my tongue.

"Can't you hear him?"

I took a deep breath.

I trusted Jimin. I trusted him when he said dad was alive, whenever he talked about the things he had been feeling and the things he had been doing. Why would I ever disagree with the reality Jimin told me about every day? It was not like I had much more left to do. It was not like believing could kill me, right? So why not?

It was when my eyeballs travelled around his desk and met the frames with horses over it that I got reminded of them, of their beauty, of their sweetness and softness, of their long hair carried by the long sighs of the wind, of their legs stepping on the white sand, of their hooves marking it. For years, for many many years, I wished I could be like them and own that same freedom and calm gaze in my eyes. Sometimes, on those rainy nights when I couldn't figure out how to fall asleep, I'd close my eyes and imagine myself racing with them. It might sound absurd but I'd feel happier the next morning. I knew that, if I couldn't be a real horse in real life, I could be a real horse in my fictional dreams. 

That sounded more than enough for me.

Nevertheless, one day, I discovered how fragile they could be, the way they let their emotions ride their movement, their lives. Thinking of that made me shiver, shut my eyes hard and hold my head between my hands for days.

Things are not always the way we want them to be, Jungkook.

Jimin knew about it. He knew it to the point that he had put the picture of a horse over his desk, the picture I had picked from the internet on a drizzling day, sitting on his father's right thigh. He knew it would fragile my senses, make my fists close and anger consume my veins. Jimin knew it and that was precisely what he wanted.