My art blog

Jimin sat lazily beneath Yoongi's hospital bed, his head buried in his knees. The chill air coming from the open window danced a around him in circles, sounds of cars and people passing by faintly echoing across the room.

Suddenly he heard Yoongi's voice softly groaning and instinctively got up, his body slightly shaken, and walked across the squeaky hospital floor. As he kneeled near the small bed he felt Yoongi's hand on his forearm, their eyes meeting, and for a split second he felt himself wondering back in time, feeling goosebumps running down his spine.

"Hello," he mumbled, his voice hoarse and dreamy. "Hello," Jimin responded, smiling faintly at Yoongi. "Who are you?" He asked, and Jimin felt a violent pang in his heart, biting his lip hard in an attempt to stop the tears that were now building up in the corners of his eyes. "A... friend." He said, trying to not overwhelm Yoongi with information, the words heavy on his chest.

Yoongi's face remained blank, his hair stuck to his forehead with damp sweat. Jimin wanted to push it back it so badly. "Were we... close?" Yoongi finally asked, his eyes staring into Jimin's, big and beautiful even with the deep purple circles that adorned them now.

"Yeah you could say that, I guess," Yoongi nodded with a faint smile on his lips, suddenly running his fingers across the huge scar that started at his upper arm and extended to his collarbone. "What's that?" He asked, his eyes curious, as though he was a child asking his parents whether or not the clouds were chasing their car. "You... had an accident." Jimin mumbled, still trying to suppress the anger and sadness that built up inside him, the emotions slowly going up his chest and burning in his head.

The door flew open and Jimin flinched in surprise, almost kicking his leg in the bed frames. "Visitor's time is over. I would have to kindly ask you to leave," the nurse mumbled, standing in the doorway. Jimin clenched his fists tightly, trying to stop the words from flying off his mouth. He walked across the room, his shoes knocking hard against the floor, feeling his blood rushing hot through his veins.

He dashed through the dark hallway, shoving a pair of earbuds into his ears and suddenly overwhelmed by Yoongi's voice against his eardrums, his walking pace intensifying as the song progressed.

As the doors fly open I stare; As I know May flowers bloom in the dead of winter? And the darkness comes, overshadowing my thoughts; But you're here. And as I stand here in this lonely beach, the wind gushing up and down I know I have you in my heart. And flowers may bloom once again Even if they were before Dead.

And by that point he was sobbing, his body falling to the floor, curling up into a ball his sweater damp with tears. He heard the sounds of loud footsteps coming closer and then Hoesok's familiar voice comforting him, his arms wrapped around Jimin's body as a shield from the outer world.

And Jimin wished this would all be over.

The lights blurbed in strange colors, the air swiftly dancing around Jimin. It was bizarre, really, walking across shops and huge buildings when no one was outside. All he could hear was the sounds of his echoing footsteps.

Suddenly he started running, his legs burning moving faster and faster, his breaths shorter and shorter and the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Boy did he want to escape, to break all these goddamn walls and windows and scream and cry. And as he started at his reflection in the shop front's huge glass windows, he saw someone standing behind him.

He cocked his head to the side and saw black hair strands peaking just behind his shoulder, and gasped, the words hard yet broken in his mouth: "Yoongi?" He turned around, feeling his heart beating faster, but as he stared forward all he saw was the huge fountain that stood in front of him, a butterfly statue decorating its top.

No one was there.

"Yoongi!" He shouted now, feeling the tears release, ugly and horrible, drying his throat and making his head go numb. "Yoongi!" He repeated, his body releasing to the wet ground, his light washed pants now covered in dirt from the asphalt street.

But there was still no one there.