With You [minjoon]

ten

Namjoon weakly pried his eyes open at the sound of light knocking on his door. With barely any strength left in his body, he only managed to turn his head as Jimin appeared in the doorframe; sweater-covered hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea.

"Hey, I brought tea," Jimin said softly. He shot him a weak smile in return as Jimin placed the mug on the nightstand next to his bed. "Thank you," he gave him a grateful smile.

Cautiously, Jimin opened his mouth to ask, "How are you feeling?"

Dead.

"Just tired." he said, putting on his most reassuring look. Jimin wasn't fooled, but he didn't comment.

The white sweater Jimin was wearing slightly hung off one shoulder, revealing a hollowed-out collarbone.

Carefully, Jimin sat down on the edge of his bed, making sure not to take up any space. He was sad. He could see it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

...

"I wish I could've spent more time with you these past weeks." He had been lying in bed, coughing up blood and sleeping for the past few weeks. It was getting worse. For each passing day, he felt death creeping closer. At this point, death was breathing down his neck.

"Namjoon... it's okay." He gently squeezed his hand, "You shouldn't apologize for being ill. We're spending time now. See? We don't have to go out to be together."

He smiled. Jimin was the sweetest and most patient person he'd ever met.

"Do you want to cuddle?"

He scooted over, lifting his duvet to let Jimin crawl in next to him. With a firm nod, the small man laid down, getting comfortable in his arms.

Jimin was all sharp edges and angles; smaller than last he held him in his arms. Namjoon frowned, "Jimin, have you been eating?"

...

"I have," The man shifted uncomfortably in his arms. He was lying; he could sense it. He could feel how much thinner he was.

"You haven't. You've lost weight," He attempted to sound strict but was far too weak.

"Namjoon, I've been taking care of myself. You shouldn't worry. You should worry about getting some rest instead, okay?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "I know you haven't been taking care of yourself," He weakly lifted a hand to cup one side of his face, running his thumb down his cheek.

"You should get a therapist. This can't go on, Jimin."

"I don't need therapy," he said, "I've been feeling better since I met you." he shot him a small, unconvincing smile.

"But it's clearly hurting you. What'll happen after I die?" Jimin was silent. For a moment, he looked away. "I'm just happy to spend your final days with you. Please, don't worry."

"I just care about you... I want you to be healthy." he let out a small sigh, "I don't want you to keep on being a depressed mess." he admitted. It was okay to be sad, but eventually he would decay if he didn't get help.

He didn't want him to get any sadder; or skinnier because he couldn't eat.

"You need help after all you've been through," he continued, "Please... I want you to be happy and healthy."

He grabbed Jimin's hand, giving it a tender squeeze. "I'll thrive," Jimin said, "I promise."

He wasn't sure he believed he would keep his promise, but he decided to take his word for it. For now, at least.

"You should get some sleep," Jimin whispered softly. He met his gaze; his dark, miserable irises. "I will," he said, "But only if you eat something right now." Gently, he lay his hand on his carved waist. A much too small waist.

"I will... rest well, my love." Jimin leaned in to plant a light kiss on his forehead, before getting out of his bed. It was cold without Jimin in his arms. He shivered.

He weakly lifted his gaze to the tea. Steaming and untouched.

He wanted to drink it, but his eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. He found himself drifting off to sleep.