PAPER HEARTS

39

It takes a billion years to create a universe.

I flip through a magazine, eyes skimming across the page at a generous rate and my forefinger hooking through the pages as I sift them by. My eyes are on the glossy printed sheets, light reflecting off the bumps, but my mind is reeling with darkening thoughts and I can't narrow it down to focus on the information. I succumb the urge to face the clock again, not wanting to know why it's been seven hours of woe and we're still waiting.

Jimin is sitting away from me, his thumb moving across the screen of his phone with absent eyes and a pang of distress pierces my chest. He's waiting too. And he's dealing with the torture in ways that I can't cope up to; his head probably full of memories he'd shared with Taehyung since they were kids in school. 

He's still clad in his uniform, crystals of blood now a dark shade of auburn, blending into the midnight blue fabric valiantly. I'm starting to wonder if Taehyung hadn't lost all of it, would he have a better chance at life? 

Yoongi is pacing the corridor, hands in his pockets, eyes counting his footsteps as he marches all the way to the end and turns to return to the front to clear the slate. Again, and again, and again, in long circles with his mind deadset on mere nothing and he's barely taking a second to breathe. 

Across from us, there is a family of three and they are huddled together in a thick blanket as they wait for their end of the bulletin. They are not too far away, and I can easily tell that their hearts are ridden with fear too.

All of us are simply moving in this tense enclosure, no thoughts, no feelings, simply breathing to forget the inevitable. 

I look down, my fingers playing with the edges of the paper, crinkling the corners up a little. It is evident that only moving our thoughts over things that hardly mattered would saturate this void of silence. It's still pouring outside, and I wonder if the heavens are mourning their fallen martyr.

Placing the magazine into its stand, I push myself to my feet and Jimin's head snaps up in concern. His cheek is still a bright shade of pink, and I can almost trace the outline of a bruise that's fanged into his honey brown skin.

"Do you need anything?" He asks me, voice soft, eyes caring.

I purse my lips together with a quick shake of my head. He holds my gaze for longer than a minute, and it shatters me to notice their dimming flares - Park Jimin, so full of fun and so full of his own beam of lights, once throbbing with mischief and now it's all beginning to scatter into an abyss of gloom. I haven't seen him so defenseless, so vulnerable, and I ache for the boy that's lost all reason to offer me a smile.

Yoongi walks up to us, hands still in his pockets, "I'm going to get coffee," he is hesitant to meet my eyes, "do you want some?"

"No," I say in a throaty voice. I'm trying hard not to come off rude.

And then, Yoongi comes to Jimin's side, his fingers slithering around the boy's wrist. 

"Come with me." is all he says, and Jimin passes me a worried glance before turning to Yoongi again.

"I'm okay, hyung -"

"I don't want to be alone anymore, Jimin."

Everything is happening too quickly, and Jimin is choking back his voice as he lumbers up and Yoongi is there to place him steadily on his feet. I avert my gaze, my vision is blurred with more tears, and it's as if Jimin already knows something I'm too scared to admit. 

He leans into Yoongi, and Yoongi holds him tightly as his body racks with tremors of grief, and his wails thicken the air again. It's just then, I know what he's been crying about, and I'm turning a deaf ear to all of it. 

Yoongi walks them away, an arm over the younger's shoulders. And for a split second there, as I watch them ebb away into the distance, I'm jealous. I bury my face into my hands as tears melt down the sides, strobing down my cheeks and into my hands as I cry. It's too easy now, under lacking scrutiny and air that's not filled with comfort. 

These people - Yoongi, Jimin, Taehyung, no matter how hard I try to find a reason, I don't belong here. My lips part and I am gasping for air as more sobs leave my body, and I'm shaking uncontrollably, waiting for a strong pair of arms to hold me and promise me that it's going to be okay. But it never occurs to me, that his touch is slowly imploding into a grey shade of memories.

And for a moment, I see him.

Just as I collapse into the seat, screaming in pain I see Taehyung again. I see him in the same place as before, and he's spacing off into the distance, his full lips stretched in a wide grin, teeth showing, and his eyes are so full of love. Then, he turns, smile lapsing for a second before tainting his face again, and the memory of it sets everything in my body on fire. It feels as though I'm being gently dipped into a vault of lava, and my heart is clenching in terror, my skin smoldering as if it's being ripped away. Taehyung is stood against the wall, our eyes meet in a fabricated glimpse and he's looking at me. I know it isn't him, it couldn't be him and it frightens me - the love in his eyes.

But no, he isn't.

His eyes are searching through me. The same love that I'd seen on the day when he'd consoled me at the hospital, when he'd kissed me under the rain, and when he'd snuck into my room to show it to me.

'Do you love me?' I'd asked as we were going through a few of his music sheets, one day.

And he'd stopped dead in his tracks, blinking slowly, 'why do you ask?' his voice was low, a whisper if you will, and then I'd giggled, holding a hand to my lips as more heat coursed through my cheeks, 'you look at me like you love me, Tae.' And then he pulled me closer, his warmth engulfing me as he'd swarmed my face with a thousand kisses, each time whispering the same three words and I was writhing in joy. We were so happy.

I stop there, my mind refusing to go any further, and I'm on the floor with my body slowly giving away.

"Taehyung," I whimper into my hands. I'm shaking. "Take me home." 

"Miss?"

Take me home.

I don't move, the vision of the boy is scalding my skin. I'm hysterical, I'm going mad, and I just desperately want someone to hold me together. I know why he's here now, I know why I'm so afraid of how he's still smiling, his empty eyes searching for a me to cherish, but in his new world, I'm not there.

It takes a billion years to create a universe. And mine comes down to smithereens when someone's voice echoes throughout the wall. The world around me slows down to a stop, leaving a deafening mark of silence in time.

"Patient 9-0-1 brought in dead."

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