ᴛʜɪʀsᴛ ☑

#35. Red Roses

A month later

Jimin's phone rang and he disconnected it during the meeting. When it rang again, he did the same thing, dropping a text to Hoseok that he would call him back as quickly as he could. 

It's urgent. He received Hoseok's text back.

"Guys," Jimin stood up from his chair and looked at the people who were reporting to him. "I need a minute. I'll be back."

The group nodded, taking a break while Jimin left the room, sticking the phone to his ear as he dialed the man's number. "Hyung, what is it?" He asked, little fear in his voice. 

"Jungkook's house, Jimin... There were explosions inside and the fire brigades are working on dousing the fire."

Jimin felt like his hand would drop the phone. He held onto the door handle as his heart started feeling like it was plunging and cinching at the same time. "Any casualty?" He asked, wishing, no praying that the answer is no.

"Not sure. We talked to the neighbors, but they are unsure about whether anyone was inside or not. The moment situation is controlled, the firefighters will go inside."

Jimin rushed back into the meeting room. "I have to leave right now. Some emergency at home."

The young colleagues stood up in unison, looking at Jimin's hassled face. "Is everything okay?"

Jimin, who was winding up his laptop now, his hands shaking as he tried to shove everything into his bag, looked up. "No."

He drove to his apartment and parked the car. Getting inside the house, he grabbed his passport before he booked a cab for the airport. 

In his first week in Singapore, he texted Jungkook five times. On not receiving any response from him, he stopped. He too knew that he should let everything go if he had decided to start fresh, to try and forget the most special chapter of his life. Although Jungkook hardly updated anything anymore, sometimes, Jimin felt relieved, seeing all the old pictures of him and being grateful that at least he hadn't blocked him on Instagram, which became his respite.

After the boarding formalities, he was on the flight, hopelessly manifesting a response from Jungkook to his tens of texts before the phone lost signal. 

 **

He arrived at where was Jungkook's house once. There was nothing there now, only a burned heap of bricks, thick smoke that charred people's eyes, and debris. He found Hoseok standing a few feet away along with the police and firefighting team. "Hyung!" He called and ran to him. 

Hoseok turned "Jimin-ah," he grabbed Jimin's palm before hugging him.

"Was anyone inside?" Jimin asked again.

"No."

Jimin closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. "Any luck finding them? I can't get in touch with Jungkook."

"I am sorry, Jimin..." Hoseok's chin started quivering. Jimin's jaws tightened and his head felt like it would explode seeing the man's face. "Wh-why? What?" 

"He passed away the same day you left Korea."

He passed away the same day you left Korea. Jimin heard, the words ringing in his head, but he couldn't believe them.

His eyes blurred and he shook his head slowly, believing that if he didn't agree with Hoseok, the truth would change. He passed away the same day you left Korea.

His throat tightened so much that he could feel his insides touching each other. He passed away the same day you left Korea. It was becoming hard to stand straight or even breathe. 

"He was found on the bus which had met with an accident. They found his body the next day when- I am so sorry, Jimin. I couldn't possibly know it. I found out about it only a few hours ago when I was enquiring about his friend."

Something pulled Jimin's senses back and he blinked. "Where was he taken for burial?" He asked calmly, feeling his heart coming apart as he held back pain.

Seeing his face going an alarming shade of red, Hoseok ended up sobbing softly, being only the one who knew about his feelings for Jungkook. "KM mausoleum." He answered in a shaky, low voice. 

Hoseok watched as Jimin started walking away, his feet swaying as he got in a taxi and the vehicle disappeared eventually.

Jimin tried to keep his calm, his face twitching as he held on to his semblance, sniffing repeatedly to stop the moans of pain from coming out during the whole ride.

The cabbie was sensitive to his condition, sure that someone close to him had died. 

On arriving, Jimin was led to the burial ground by the staff.

He looked around, frantically looking to not find the words Jeon Jungkook written anywhere as though it would help him find his center... As if it would help him breathe better, but then he found them on a small tombstone.

He walked near it, his legs shaking as he carried a bouquet of red roses. Not going all the way to be able to touch it, but close enough from where he could see it clearly, his knees dropped in the soil and he placed a bouquet on the end of the grave. 

His head was hung low and his liquid was now rolling out, the tear duct unrestrained. He was silent, too silent before a spasm wracked through his heart so strong that it crumpled him. "I didn't get to express my feelings for you," he choked on a sob, feeling his muscles cramping with how much effort it took to say the words against his body shaking violently, his jaw tightening. "I didn't get to ask you what happened to your parents. I didn't get to label our relationship. If I changed my mind... If I had stopped you from leaving that day, you would still be here with your grandparents, with me."

His lips stretched as he remembered something. "I know you said you weren't really vocal. I still want to hear from you one last time. I'd give anything to see you one last time, Jungkook." He broke down, bowing his head at the ground. He cried and bellowed in pain, in regret. He cried and cried some more, all the pain exuding from his body.

He continued crying for hours, unable to tell anything, oblivious to his physical bearings.

The day had started turning dark, but Jimin's head was a ghost town with nothing but haunting memories. He tried to think what Jungkook's last thoughts would have been, but he was never going to find out. He wondered how scared must Jungkook have been when the calamity hit, but he was never going to be able to protect him, to comfort him, to see him ever again.

He was just a 19-year-old boy. A boy who taught him so much about him, which he never would have found out on his own. His legs were cramped from sitting in the same position for hours. His screams had died but his tears were still raining down.

He knew he would never be able to get the incurable feeling out of his chest, but it was time to go. 

He stood up, his bones cracking as he walked closer to the grave, letting his fingers graze the stone. "I never kissed your lips," he chastised himself rather than complain, unable to feel anything in his body except the devoted pain that he wished to end him. Leaning down, he finally let his lips touch the grave as one last fit of sob convulsively shuddered through his body, shaking his shoulders, picturing Jungkook's face smiling at him innocently and happily. "You were a godsend. I never got to say it. I love you, Jungkook." He took out the wristwatch which he had collected from the front office, the one he had given to him as a parting present that no one from the family had claimed — perhaps because he must have kept it a secret — and slipped it on his own wrist, as a commitment to always carry Jungkook with him, to always mourn and celebrate what he meant to him. 

End.