Lonely Clowns.

Storm and Syrup.

"kisses on the foreheads
of the lovers wrapped in your arms,

you've been hiding them
in hollowed out pianos left in the dark"

— apocalypse / cigarettes after sex

Jimin is leaning against his window, watching the sun go down, when he sees Taehyung rush up to their gates. He seems to have been crying. Jimin hovers by the stairs, not wanting to alert his parents. Taehyung doesn't like the attention.

He can hear hushed whispers downstairs as his mother asks Taehyung how he's been. I'm good, Taehyung tells her, probably with that smile; so he tiptoes back into his room, listening for the footsteps up the stairs. The door creaks open.

"Tae?"

"Don't ask."

They cuddle into bed together, their pinkies intertwined; staring up at the tiny, neon stars on Jimin's ceiling that he never plucked off since he was 7 years old. How could he? Taehyung loved them.

A beat. Then. "I'm tired of him," Taehyung whispers.

Jimin shuts his eyes and snuggles closer, holding him. Like a prayer, willing it to come true. To take away his pain. After a while, Taehyung fumbles around for his speakers, turning it on. He just knew the song that would come up, and it does. They turn to face each other. Taehyung's eyes are sad.

/why do birds suddenly appear,
every time you are near?
just like me, they long to be close to you ~

"Do you think she knew him at all?"

"No," Jimin sighs. "Probably not."

"Yeah. That's what I think too." Taehyung frowns at nothing, then shifts on his back to stare at the ceiling again.

"Jiminie," he mumbles a few minutes later. "I.. I'm practically an orphan, right?" His hands are surprisingly still, bunched into each other. Holding himself together. "I'm free. Nothing to look out for. Nobody to look after, right?"

Jimin cannot think of anything to say. So he doesn't.

/on the day that you were born,
the angels got together
and decided to create a dream come true ~

Jimin thinks about Taehyung's mother. Her lingering hugs. Her large, beautiful eyes, full of patience and infinite kindness. Her loud laughter. Her sallow face when he last saw her. Like the light had gone out on the day. Like songbirds stopped singing. Taehyung was 12 when it had happened.

"She would race me in her wheelchair sometimes. All around the hospital, and she would sing. She sang so well, you know?" Taehyung laughs softly. The song plays on loop, echoing off the walls. "I miss her," he whispers.

Jimin hugs him tight, pecking on his nose in the dark. "She was something else," he agrees. "I miss her too. She was the sunniest thing in the room, and you're just like her."