With You [minjoon]

eight

The look the doctor gave him said everything. He had come there for no reason.

"All I can do is prescribe you some stronger painkillers," he had expected those words to come out of his doctor's mouth, but he had hoped there was more he could do to ease his pain.

He nodded, "Thank you." It was better than nothing.

"I do have other news," the doctor said, "Your condition is worsening quicker than anticipated. You must take it easy if you want to make it another month."

He felt his heart drop. The first thing he thought about was Jimin. He would tear him apart, even more than he already would.

He left the hospital that day, sick and tired. His symptoms were getting worse. Worse than he'd ever expected they'd be.

He knew he had to tell Jimin. He couldn't lie about how long he possibly had left. He deserved to know the truth.

He texted him. They needed a place to talk.

It wasn't long before Jimin came. He had taken the bus.

"Namjoon? What's going on?" His voice was laced with concern. "Have you eaten?" ignoring his question, he looked him straight in the eyes.

"No," he stammered lightly.

He put on a smile, "Let's go to a nearby café and talk." Silently Jimin followed him, staying close to his body.

They reached a small café - a café Namjoon discovered only recently. He liked the place. It was small and cozy.

Inside the café, they were greeted by a waitress. She led them to a table, giving them each a menu.

"What are you getting?" He asked Jimin. The other was sitting silently with his face planted on the menu. He spaced out.

The man was tired. Weakly, he lifted his gaze.

"I don't know... I don't feel hungry."

He frowned, "Jimin, you need to eat something," he said, "When was the last time you ate?" It took him a moment to respond.

"I don't really keep count... maybe one or two days ago?" Jimin admitted. "You're eating something now, okay?" he demanded.

He gave a small nod. The waitress returned to their table, ready to take their order.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Namjoon shifted in his chair. He didn't want to tell him the news. "Did the doctor tell you something?" Jimin was visibly nervous – face painted white with fear of whatever he was going to say.

"My days might get narrowed down by a bit if I don't take it with ease," he said, "Doctor said it was worsening quicker than expected."

...

Silence. As quiet as a mouse, Jimin played with his sleeves. Sleeves that drowned small hands and thin arms.

"I wish you didn't have to die..." his voice trailed off, breaking with pain, "You're so young." He frowned. Leaving Jimin was the worst part of dying. "We should make the best of your remaining month," he decided, fiercely meeting his gaze.

Namjoon hummed in agreement.

The waitress came with their food. They sat quietly. Neither of them felt like eating. Jimin was playing with the flakes of his croissant.

"Jimin... please, eat." he begged the younger. "You should eat as well, Namjoon." he frowned slightly.

"I will," he picked up his fork. He looked down. Cream cake. It was good, but he couldn't enjoy it.

"I love you, Jimin. So much." he was beyond grateful the man wanted to stay by his side. "I love you, too, Namjoon..." his eyes glistened.

They got up, pulling each other into an embrace. It was warm, and much needed. He planted a small kiss on Jimin's lips. He didn't want to leave him.