End of the World (REWRITE)VMIN

A Cold Life, Indeed

October of 1995

It was early in the morning when Park Jimin was born. Just shy of sunrise, the sky was clear of precipitation, and the air was slightly warmer than usual in Busan, South Korea. As a baby, it all felt so cold to him when he was born, suddenly brought into this world.

His Mother, after the nurse cleaned him up and cut his umbilical cord, held him close. Her hands had been shaking that day, but not out of fear. She'd been so happy, to finally peer into her son's eyes and know he would be loved unconditionally.

His Father, a normally communicative soul, had been clammed up with emotions. They rampaged his lungs, squeezing at his throat, until he felt unable to inhale. Instead, he just walked over to the hospital bed, to both of the love's of his life. His legs felt like fragile glass, but he refused to break down now.

Newly born Jimin cried out, squirming in his Mother's arms. She cradled him closer, her sweaty torso (from the intense 10 hours of labor) warmed his tiny body, and he slowly stopped shouting.

She cooed at him, tears slipping down her flushed cheeks as her husband knelt on the bed beside her. The nurse's were scribbling on a clipboard about vitals, weight, and other things that were beyond the couple's expertise. Still, eventually, they would ask about it, because this was their baby, and they wanted to know.

For now, however, they watched their son. His eyes were brown and a little patch of hair on his head. He had smooth skin, and his Father ran a gentle finger down the bridge of his baby's nose to the tip. Instantly, Jimin peered up at his Father and let out a satisfied gurgle before squirming again.

"So wiggly," his Mother whispered fondly, smiling down at him. Her husband looked at her for a moment, his heart tight and hot. He had only ever seen her smile like that one other time: on their wedding day. She was an angel, and he had a feeling their son Jimin would be too.

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October of 2000

"Happy Birthday!"

A choir of people surrounding Jimin all laughed and clapped as they finished the song. At the very end of the table, tiny frame hidden by the huge two-tier cake, sat Jimin. In front of him, the chocolate cake towered over the line of his gaze, and he looked up at the very top, where a giant '5' made of colored wax was stuck.

"Blow out the candle-"

"-Make a wish!"

Both of his parents had said at the same time, their arms wrapped around each other. Next to them, Jimin's Aunt stood, where she held an expensive camera and aimed it at the birthday boy. She was grinning from ear to ear as she recorded.

Jimin blushed under the attention, but as he struggled to kneel in the wooden chair, he was smiling just as wide as his family.

He blew out the candle, some spittle slapping onto the frosting near the base of the dripping wax. But he didn't care. It was his birthday; he was five now, practically a young man. His chest bloomed with pride, and he nodded once confidently, as if to bolster that shining self-esteem.

"Ewwww! Jimin spit on it!" One of his cousin's whined. She was older than him, but not by much. Her hair was as black as a raven, like his own, but unlike Jimin, her eyes were a softer caramel while his were a deep chocolate. Still, they resembled each other enough to be called family, despite her pointier nose and his chubbier cheeks.

Jimin huffed, but before he could argue back, his Mother laughed and exclaimed, "Then the top will be all his!" She looked at him with something akin to amusement, "Sound good, birthday boy?"