#tw:loss

Ten minutes later, and against his better judgment, Jimin is lowering himself down the godforsaken trellis behind you and into his front yard with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His perfectly pressed and creased dress clothes have been replaced with his favorite blue jeans and a white t-shirt with a too wide collar that he snatched from his closet in haste. He grumbles as his timberland boots catch on the lattice and send a chunky piece of wood careening off the edge of the trellis. Another thing to add to today’s list of sins, he supposes. His mother really is going to throttle him when she gets her hands on him. He can’t help but sigh at the thought. At least if he dies, he dies in his favorite outfit.

As he slides into the passenger seat, he wonders if he should text her. He heard the commotion of his parents leaving ages ago, his mother adamant about finding good parking as she stuffed her precious yapping Pekingese in her too big purse and slammed the back door shut. The idea of them sitting there waiting for a son who never shows up makes his heart feel a little sick. So he sends something non-committal to his father, the calmer of the two- an emergency came up with a friend. I’m safe but i can’t make graduation. I’m sorry- mutes it, and shoves it in his pocket.

As you turn the engine over and begin to pull away, Jimin looks back over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of his cat’s warm terra cotta fur sitting in his windowsill. If it’s even possible, her sweet face looks confused to watch him go. Like she knows something is wrong about today. Jimin knows he’s projecting, but still, he swears he can almost hear her solemn meow as you turn the corner and he loses sight of both her and the way this day was supposed to go.

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An hour in, neither of you has said a word.

Not really. It feels strange. At some point, you’d begun playing a soft acoustic playlist in the background just to fill the air with something other than this sterile silence. Yet it remained suffocatingly still between you otherwise. Neither of you were even humming along or tapping your fingers- nothing.

The engine’s steady rumble and shaky, finger picked guitar strings remain the only sounds in the cabin as Jimin’s gaze stays pointedly focused out the passenger window. His fingertips make an absent minded profession of picking at the unraveling threads of his ripped jeans, and you try to pretend this doesnt hurt. The silence between you feels weighty, heavy- wrong. Full of all the questions he won’t ask and the answers you won’t offer.

You wish it wasn’t like this.

You wish you hadn’t had to come find him today. That things were different. That everything was different. You’re grateful that he’s here- truly, you are. It’s just that you wish you had been strong enough to do it alone. That you could’ve been braver.

That you weren’t such a coward.

That’s the one that stings the most. No matter how hard you try to push your troubled thoughts away, that’s the one that always ricochets back the fastest. You hate it. You should’ve figured out how to face this alone- but you’d been scared, and it made you selfish. You can’t help but feel guilty about the rite of passage you’d stolen from him today. You hope one day he’ll understand.

You hope one day he can forgive you.

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An hour and a half later, you find yourself on a patch of winding, interconnecting backroads so old they’re still just gravel. Tree boughs sweep low overhead in this forgotten area so far outside the city. You and Jimin had picked up some fast food at the last place you’d seen for miles not too long ago, but your bag remains folded over on the bench seat between you. You’ll eat when you get there, you think. And if your memory serves you right, it shouldn’t be too long now.

Jimin, to his credit, still hasn’t asked where you’re going as he munches unenthusiastically on his cardboard French fry. You miss the melodic sound of his voice. Especially now. It would’ve been a nice companion these last few hours. But you understand. You know him. Honestly, at this point, you’ve realized his silence is actually a gift. Jimin holds his tongue for no one, so the fact that he’s stayed beside you with little to no resistance this entire drive says a lot about how seriously he’s taking this, how important to him you are, and you’re grateful.

You know he’s upset and confused right now, and Jimin doesn’t handle feeling lost very well. It’s why he always pushed so hard in school all these years. He never could stand not knowing the why behind things. And he never handled irrationality well. So you’re sure spontaneously dragging him out of his bedroom on the biggest day of his high school career has set off more than a few alarm bells for him- yet he remains silent for your sake.

Jimin was usually a force to reckoned with in his own domain- every teacher at school knew it too. They all dreaded his inevitable irreverence and pushback when they required anything of him that he might deem unreasonable or poorly thought out. They knew good and well what a spitfire he was. He was passionate and loud about needing to understand, to be ahead of the game. It’s why he was such a brilliant student.

It’s why he should’ve been valedictorian.

That nauseous twinge is back in your gut, but you push it down as you turn down a particularly neglected road and something else swirls in your chest. Ivy and brambled blackberry plants have twined themselves around the rusted iron gate at the end of the lane in front you. The trees dip low and wild as you hop wordlessly out of the truck to undo the padlock chaining the ancient gate to the sunken wooden fence line.

The air here is so much lighter, so much cleaner than in the city, and a wave of nostalgia grips you so tightly you fear you may collapse. Eyes fluttering shutas your shoulders dip, you let the old memories overtake you as you still in the high grass by the gate.

You can’t remember the last time you were here, and the thought makes tears that you refuse to shed prick the corners of your eyes. Things should never have gotten this bad, you think- but here you are. Breathing deeply, you turn the numbers on the lock through sheer muscle memory and trudge bare legged through the high summer hay to push the gate wide open, your graduation robes abandoned hours ago.

Hopping back into the truck, you direct it through the gate like slipping through a portal into another world- a gentler world. A sweeter time in a simple place that was always kind to you, even when the rest of the world was harsh. You hope it will be gracious enough to accept you again now as you slip out yonce again to push the gate shut before driving you and Jimin a mile deep out into the center of the beautiful, wild, undisturbed hay field.

Shifting into park, you take a deep, trembling breath and turn off the engine.

“We’re here.” You whisper in the stillness.

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✨full fic coming soon! ✨

After this first battle, this first spark of glory, you did not recognize him anymore. Some of the men had not come back… it was war after all, losses were to be made if one wanted to win, right? Nevertheless, a week after his return he still had not spoken to you, or went to you. You confronted him. Eomer would not talk to you, saying it was not the right time or the right place.

You were furious and disappointed. On a full moon’s evening, he gave you back the only token of your affection you could ever have given him. It was a mere piece of tissue, the one you used the first time he encountered you. The first time he watched you tie your hair up doing the laundry with all these other women. Eomer knew who you were where you came from, the small money and value your marriage ever could give him or his uncle. He did not care. Or at least told you so.

Until that fateful night he had never hurt you. Not even once. Not even unwillingly. Because you always forgave him for everything he did and everything he did not do, understanding when he could not explain himself in words.

The only thing you ever asked of him was not to bed you before your wedding night. And he never did, never even asked.

The only promise he had was this piece of tissue, a pale blue under the moonlight. And he wanted to give it back. Without saying a word without murmuring an apology or explaining himself and for once, you did not understand.

15 years afterwards

Tying your hair up in the pale dawn, you released a heavy sigh. Today was the day Eomer was to come back. Today was the day your fiancé was to come back.

Going into battle against the forces of evil was one thing nonetheless coming back alive was another. Grabbing your laundry basket and going out of your house, you quickened your pace towards the wash house as everyone was frantic about their husbands and family member’s return. On the way there, you reminisced on the last time you had seen the knight. You made him keep the only piece of you he would ever get: that wretched piece of blue tissue. Having it back would have made you cry even harder than you already did.

He was gone for so long, your pain faded little by little. When you caught glimpses of him somewhere your heart would stammer again. Luckily for you, someone helped you forget. Or tried at least.

Gallen was not as strong as Eomer was. Not as dashing neither was he of royalty but he was there, and he loved you. You cared for him deeply too. He knew of your infatuation with the king’s nephew. Safe is to say, everyone did. Gallen was one of the only one not to give you grief for it. Not calling you a whore behind your back or – as some did – straight to your face. He trusted you and you trusted him, and that was enough.

When they had called on all the men to stop the attacks and join the ranks, he did not shy away. He was one of the first armed and ready to go into battle. You did not want him to, your heart and mind broken at the idea of him leaving you.

“I promise I will come back to you. I always did, haven’t I?”

He had let out of low chuckle, kissing the crown of your hair before stepping away from your arms. In a rough manner, you had pulled him into a tight embrace, before kissing him. It was unexpected and welcomed.

Both breathless, giggling like children, you did not say a word before the commander started rounding up all the men to lead them towards the battle field.

In one last sentence you had told him: “When you come back, we are getting married. So, you better come back. I’ll be expecting you Gallen. I’ll be expecting you with my body and soul.”

His face had gone pale and he had kissed you one more time, before promising you again.

Today was the day he was to come back with all the other men. At noon, laundry drying outside, you were preparing a meal, as every woman did, for the returning soldiers. They were to come back in soon enough.

Today was supposed to be joyful. The sky was empty of clouds, clear as a summer day but the faces around you were not. Fewer men than expected made it back. Waiting for Gallen to show up in the still standing men, your guts told you not to. In the ill and wounded faces afterwards, you still searched for him, the loaf of bread in one hand getting cold, when the other was beginning to sweat. No one came, even when as the sunset could be seen behind the hills. As some of the other women, you were not to rejoice tonight, and you did not.

When all the grieving wives buried the bodies of their loved ones, and when all the grieving mothers and sisters and aunts and parents could cry, you did not. The tears were stuck in your throat, destroying everything in their wake.