Terrible Things

Chapter 27 - Then

March 26th

4 Years Ago

A rare ray of sunlight filters in through the window, brightening the small room I've spent most of my time in these last few weeks.

After Jimin told me about his diagnosis, things moved fast. Oncologists were met, tests were run, chemo was started. We were going full speed ahead, all of our eyes on the larger goal - keeping Jimin from being one of the very-sad statistics that the doctors kept reminding us of.

We were hopeful. Even when the chemo left Jimin too sick too move. Or on that first morning that Jimin found strands of his pink hair littering his pillow. Even when I had to pull him into my arms after the discovery, his fragile shoulders shuddering with sobs so strong I was sure they were going to break him right in half.

Those weeks burned by so quickly, like a fire that our hope kept fueled and raging strong.

But all fires come to an end, don't they? Not all at once, no. But slowly, with each bucket of water that gets thrown on it, the flames get weaker and weaker.

Until eventually they just give out completely.

Our first douse of water started when they doctors called us in, the grim looks on their faces the first drops. And then they opened their mouths - the words pouring from their lips. The chemo wasn't working, they had spouted. The cancer was spreading, infecting more and more of Jimin's body. What started in his bones had spread out it's disease-ridden fingers, grabbing hold of his lungs and even some parts of his liver.

From then, no matter how strong we tried to be, the water just kept on coming. Bruises that would appear on Jimin's skin from just the slightest of touches. Short walks with Taehyung that left Jimin gasping for breath. Coughs that produced more blood than they did air.

I could see that the treatments were taking their toll. Jimin's weight had reached an all time low, his ribs prominent against his skin. He now had a wide array of head scarves, from bold colors to flower printed ones, but sometimes I caught him staring into the mirror, silent tears running down his face.

Hope was all I had left. But Jimin....

Jimin was losing that hope. He was losing the will to keep fighting. And I wasn't sure how long I could convince to keep doing something that only took from him, never giving back in exchange.

And then, two weeks ago, we had all our friends over. It was one of the better days. Jimin was smiling, his skin a glow with happiness as he chatted with Hoseok, both of them curled up on the couch. Jin and Namjoon had cuddled up on the loveseat across from them, small smiles on their faces. And I watched it all from the side, memorizing the look on Jimin's face - a look I didn't get to see often anymore.

Taehyung and Jungkook ran circles around the living room, wooden swords in hand. They stopped between the couches, Taehyung - in all his eyepatched glory - stood before Jimin, his sword up in front of him. "Treasure mine," he grumbled, defending a now giggling Jimin from the clutches of Jungkook. The older lunged forward, whacking the swords together.

"Careful, boys," I called, but my warning was lost in the sound of play. Jungkook and Taehyung had an epic battle - that is to say there was a lot of grunting and fake groaning when one of them got hit.

And then Taehyung tripped, his body falling backwards. I moved towards him, but Jimin reacted faster, his arm shooting out to catch Taehyung - a resounding snap sounding through the room. Everything went quiet as we all froze, watching as Jimin cradled his arm to his chest, breathing hard through clenched teeth. Taehyung sat on the floor, blinking dazedly.