With You [minjoon]

four

His lungs burned. He felt a surge of relief once he saw his apartment, now only meters away. Upon stepping up the rest of the stairs, his eyes laid on a familiar man – yet unrecognizable.

The long hair was gone. Chopped off; now only just covering his forehead.

A bag full of groceries hung from Jimin's arm.

"Hey," he called, putting on a smile, "Your hair looks great!" he complimented. Jimin stopped fumbling with his keys for a moment, looking at him with a small, sweet smile.

"Thank you." His pale cheeks had a pinkish tint.

"Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?" Jimin asked him, pointing to his grocery bag, "I'm going to cook something."

He gave him a firm nod, "I'd love to," he said.

"Does 5 sound alright to you?"

"I'll see you then, Jimin." The two of them disappeared inside their own apartments. He smiled, glad that Jimin was seemingly beginning to take care of himself.

The moment he had his shoes slipped off, he went into a coughing fit, leaning against the wall for support as saliva spat onto his hands, mixed with red.

He froze. He had blood on his palms. His lungs were hurting.

He clutched onto his chest, hurtling to the painkillers in the bathroom. He downed a couple with a glass of water.

He thought he should take a shower while the medicine kicked in. Perhaps, it would distract him from the pain. Besides, it wasn't much better lying in bed, restless and tossing like an idiot.

He threw his clothes over his head. He barely recognized the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. Once, he had been so healthy, with a fit body.

He had become a victim of lung cancer. Cheeks sunken, dark circles under his eyes, his frame pale and weak – he wasn't the same man he was five years ago.

_

He rang the doorbell.

It didn't take long before the door opened, revealing Jimin, standing so prettily with a tiny smile. "Come inside," he invited.

He walked inside, slipping his shoes off. Jimin's place looked nice and clean, like he had just cleaned.

A pleasant aroma went up his nostrils. The scent was something he could only distinguish as butter chicken.

Jimin led him to his dining table – two plates of butter chicken were aesthetically prepared. He assumed the younger man must've known what he was doing. He wondered if it tasted as good as it looked. Admittedly, he had a hard time imagining Jimin knew how to cook.

"This looks great, Jimin." he told him. Flustered, Jimin looked away, hiding the slight blush on his face.

"Thanks," he smiled. Namjoon loved his smile. It almost felt healing. They both sat down across from each other.

It felt like a date, if Namjoon had to describe it. The atmosphere was similar. He was looking forward to trying the food – to figure out if Jimin could cook.

He scooped a small bit into his spoon, bringing it to his mouth. It was hot. He blew a little on it, before carefully slipping the spoon past his lips.

His eyes widened. "This is amazing!" he said, "I didn't know you could cook,"

Jimin was yet to have tried his own food. He sat with a flustered look on his face. "Well, my fiancé taught me a little," he said, "He was great."

Namjoon softened his gaze. There it was again. That sad face.

"He must've been, if he taught you how to make this," he responded, taking another bite. "To be fair, I did know a little beforehand. I had to teach myself how to cook after my parents died,"

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

Jimin shrugged, "It's been a long time," he told him, facing away. "But I miss them." he frowned.

"How did it happen?" he asked. The other let out a small sigh, "They died in a fire. They had no way of surviving."

"That's horrible," Namjoon expressed. "Yeah..."

"But to keep the conversation light, what do you do? What are your hobbies?" Jimin said, "I realized I really know nothing about you."

Namjoon smiled, "I do mostly what you've seen already. I like taking a stroll around the area or sitting with my face in a book,"

Jimin gazed at him, "You're really interesting, Namjoon," he said softly.

He let out a soft chuckle.

They chatted over the meal. He found Jimin a great talker, knowing exactly how to keep a conversation interesting.

"Thanks for the meal, Jimin. You're an amazing cook."

Jimin smiled subtly, "Thanks," he frowned slightly, "To be honest, I haven't cooked in a while. I haven't had the motivation to get up and do it," he admitted.

"Do you usually just order takeout, then?"

Jimin shook his head, "I generally don't feel like eating... My appetite is completely gone." he shot him a downcast smile.

It made sense why Jimin was so skinny, as if he were glass. Thin, and easy to break. "That's got to change," he voiced. The small man silently hummed in agreement.

...

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

Namjoon nodded; a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "That'd be nice," he told him.

The man got a bottle of red wine from his fridge. He noticed at first glance it was an expensive brand.

He watched as Jimin filled two glasses, all the way to the brim. He carefully picked them up.

"Do you want to sit on the couch?" he asked. Namjoon nodded.

He followed Jimin inside his living room. He grabbed a glass, careful not to spill, knowing it'd likely stain whatever it landed on.

They sat down. Namjoon couldn't pry his gaze away from the beautiful man.

He truly was something to look at. Like an abstract painting at an art exhibition; so eye-catching. A painting you would stare at for hours while your mind wandered off, thinking endlessly about the meaning of the picture. About what it represented.

He was falling for Jimin. The same way he fell for art.

"You know what?"

"What's up?"

Jimin played with the little wine left in his glass, "I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I really like you." He smiled subtly, "I like you, too, Jimin."

He felt a pang of guilt in his body. He liked Jimin in a different way.

You can't be with him, he told himself. He couldn't. It would be unfair to Jimin. He'd hurt him even more. He'd shatter the broken mug into even smaller pieces.

He sat with Jimin for hours, drinking himself drunk with a few glasses of wine.

He could sense Jimin felt better with a little company. He had been alone too much.

The moment he stepped outside of Jimin's apartment, waving him goodbye, he couldn't help but feel horrible. He could never be with Jimin. He couldn't even stay friends with him. He knew Jimin needed someone in his life, but he couldn't be that someone.

He didn't have much time left.