"Are you sure you want this? There is no going back now."
𝘿𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙮?
It's always said that a person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. Well, Jimin always found it absurd, a stupid supersit...
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The grey clouds swirled around the sky, adorning the ocean-like sky with a sad grayish color. They looked like small cotton balls, dipped in grey paint, floating on the colorless water. Quite ironically, as the silver-haired man calls it, the surroundings looked quite gloomy as well, perhaps matching the mood.
His gaze wandered across the hall and saw everyone dressed in black, nearly causing him to snicker, but he knew he had to keep it under control, at least for now, if he wanted to leave here calmly. His gaze was drawn to the photo frame of the lady he had called mother, which was seated there, as people kneeled and paid their last respects.
And yet, there he was, feeling nothing. He should have been sobbing and shedding tears, but he felt nothing, as though he was numb. Instead of the expected pain, relief enveloped his heart, embracing it securely in a comforting manner. That would undoubtedly make him appear bad in everyone's eyes, because who, in their right mind, would say they are relieved their mother died?
And perhaps, he was insane for this, but he couldn't bring himself to feel even a smidgen of grief or sympathy for that woman. He didn't even want to be here, but he knew he had to, or he can gladly consider himself dead— quite literally. His blemished eyes eventually shifted to his father, who stood there, a pained expression on his face while his relatives voiced their condolences.
What a great actor.
All he really wanted to do was march up there and tear his mask in front of all these people present here, but that would surely mean he is digging his own grave. But, one day, he wanted to do that so bad, so bad to just leave this life behind— don't get him wrong, he wasn't suicidal, but he wasn't a huge fan of this life either, not when his life revolved around bruises, scars and pain.
He closed his eyes and hung his head down, not able to stand this anymore. Slowly, very slowly, he took a step back and then another until he spun around and walked toward the door of the funeral hall. Being fake was never his thing and standing there, having all those people stare at him with pity pooling in their eyes, it truly felt like it was suffocating him. It made him feel like a bad person for not caring a bit about his mom passing away.
Jimin can't deny that he has some issues, particularly with his emotions. But again, who doesn't have issues? Problems, difficulties, or whatever you want to call it— it was all a part of life. Just like an unwelcome guest you despise. Even if you despise it, everyone has to cope with it as it comes and goes. But Jimin felt that his problems had outstayed their welcome, and he was struggling to get rid of them.
"Park Jimin, where the fuck do you think you are going?" His father voice roared behind him, making him halt on his track, near the doorway. He clenched his fist tightly, digging his nails on his palms, leaving a crescent shaped bruise behind. He slowly turned around to look at his father's livid eyes. A shuddering breath pushed past Jimin's lips as he took in a deep breath to muster his courage up, "None of your business, sir."
