"JUST YOU" [Yoonmin]

Memories - "Lost Childhood"

Yoongi looked around the property. The landlord was saying something about a tenant living here, but would have them move out soon. All the paperwork was almost done and all that was left was for him to date and sign. To sign his life away to past heartaches, and broken promises.

She led him to the backyard, the first stop of an unwelcoming tour. Childhood memories started flooding his brain and fogged up his past.

The first thing he noticed was the wooden outdoor patio table. The umbrella sticking out of it had same boring blue plaid design from when he was a kid. Dusty, but recognizable.

"Mommy, daddy, hurry up, I want to eat on our new table."

"Okay, son we're coming." His mom had said while bringing out a plate of sandwiches. Her face till this day was blurry and fuzzy in his memories.

"Yoongi are you happy?" His dad had asked him.

"So happy," he responded while running around the table with a carrot sticking out of his mouth.

"And here we have the same swing set. Everything still intact. No rot or rust. " The realtor smiled brightly with clear excitement in her voice. She didn't know the pain that this very yard brought him.

"Do you want to swing higher?"

"Yes, higher!"

"Okay, Yun-ki, here we go, hold on tight!"

"Yoongi, dear, you need to be careful! Straighten your legs or otherwise it can be dangerous. I don't want you to fall!"

"Okay mommy!"

He looked on somberly as he realized that even his dad's, his favorite person in the whole world, face was diminishing, dissolving into nothing but painful memories.

He tried to squint to get a better image of the scene that was playing in front of him. As if he was watching on an old movie reel that kept getting jammed in the projector. But unfortunately, memories do that. They get jammed, lost, forgotten about, and eventually fade with time.

Still, he smiled in defeat and whispered to the house, "Eomma, Appa, I'm back!"

Forgetting the high-pitched annoying voice of the middle aged woman, who was still talking animatedly in the background, he turned and directed his attention towards the house.

He was about to walk up to the front porch when something bright, red, and pink had caught his eyes. The aroma instantly hit his nose as he furrowed his eyebrows in disgust.

There, in a small patch of what he could only guess was an attempt at a garden, the thing he hated the most, roses! Prickly thorns, in full bloom roses. They stared back at him, mocked him even.

He bent down to grab a hand full of petals, ripping them from their home and detaching them in a rush.

New memories started to flood him once again, but these were not near as welcoming. He quickly shook himself out of his reverie, turned his hand over, and watch the now crushed up petals fall, diminishing his anger, and any negative thoughts that came with the daunting past.

He made it to the front door with the realtor behind him. He really ought to learn and remember her name.

They made their way inside. It was cluttered but not dirty, dusty but no stench.

He noticed a small desk out of the corner of his eyes. Tucked out of place by the front door where an empty fishbowl sat on top of it.

Slowly approaching the antique, he very carefully pulled the fragile drawer open, afraid it was going to fall apart and break down. He remembered the smooth, sanded feel under his fingertips, but also the roughness of jagged edges that his dad didn't properly buff.

Finding what he was looking for, his eyes looked far away as he remembers being small barely able to reach. His Abeoji had to put the drawer on the ground so he could draw said picture that was now looking up at him. He smiled at the memory.

"Yun-ki!"

"Papa!"

"What are you doing son?"

"I'm drawing our family portrait."

"Really? Wow! My boy is soo talented!"

He then walked quickly through the corridor and rushed to the kitchen. Only to find the same dining room table and chairs. His eyes immediately gaze towards his seat. His lucky seat, the one he always sat at when he was hungry, bored, sad, and just wanted to think. There were so many times, he found himself surrounded by pages and pages of drafts, drawings, anything that came to him. Poems, school projects. This was his favorite spot in the whole house.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday our precious Yun-ki! Happy birthday to you!"

A beautiful 2 tiered cake with candles that said "Happy birthday" and had the #7 on it was placed in front of him.

"Appa is giving this to you! I made it by hand myself! Happy birthday, son!"

"Yay! A new desk! "

"Do you like it?"

"Yes Appa, I love it!"

He was brought out of his daydream when fingers snapped in front of his face. They continued the tour up to the 2nd floor and he noticed his old bedroom. Still at the end of the hallway, still with the same sliding door, still untouched.

"Don't worry, we made sure the occupant didn't disturb or go anywhere near that room."

Yoongi just shrugged, "Does it really matter?"

The realtor was confused but decided to keep quiet and go back downstairs. He approached the room as if it was the plague. Dreading the memories that would come rushing back to haunt him once he was inside the awful space. He took a deep breath and pushed the entrance back. Grimacing at the screeching sound that it made, reminding him how long it really has been since he last visited.

It was the exact same. Posters of past writers and thinkers plastered on the wall, notebooks sprawled all over the desk and floor, except the only difference was that it was now collecting dust.

"I have really come back!" He spoke aloud. Pulling himself together, he took one glance around the old room, and walked back towards the stairs, the screeching of the sliding door still echoing off the walls in his wake.

Diary Of Min Yoongi

"Faded Memories"

"There's a famous saying that is both Beautiful and Haunting;

"When a Loved One Becomes a Memory, That Memory Becomes a Treasure."

I can no longer see them, but they are always in my thoughts.

When the sun shines each morning,

It reminds me of their smile.

Their memory is the wind that blows through my hair, the rain that sprinkles on my face.

Their laughter and touch fade into rainbows that disappear after the sunshine radiates its warmth.

It's in those moments that the traces of rain are no more.

Memories are a broken sadness,

Filling with hope, love, and despair.

Longing is part of that process,

However, long that may be,

This is how beautiful they live in our faded memories."