With You [minjoon]

eleven

Despite how tired he was, it was like he was half-conscious; never actually sleeping. His heart pumped with worry. He couldn't help but wonder if Jimin was okay right now, or silently crying to himself.

He decided to stop trying. He flung his eyelids open, gazing around his dusty room. He couldn't remember the last time he had the energy to clean.

A few weeks ago, Jimin had come in and ran a cloth over the furniture. He was so thankful whenever Jimin helped him out, despite how drained of energy he was from crying most days in his apartment.

He felt a pool of guilt in his stomach; he could never get rid of the feeling that it was his fault Jimin was so depressed; like he was contributing to his problems by being on his deathbed.

Realistically, he knew he shouldn't blame himself for being terminally ill. They both committed to the relationship; they knew what was coming their way.

Although now that death was so near, he couldn't help but feel he was betraying Jimin. He didn't want to imagine what was going to happen to him after he died.

He couldn't bear the thought of not being able to hold him in his arms anymore; what was even going to happen to him? What happened after death?

A thought struck him, so suddenly.

He weakly sat up in his bed, head pounding at the sudden movement. It was exhausting; something as small as changing positions.

He stood up, taking a moment to let his dizziness go away.

He rummaged through his drawers, ending up with a small silver ring in his hand. It was familiar. He had gotten it from his sister on his sixteenth birthday. It was custom made. 'RM' had been engraved on the front.

He used to make music back in his teens. He lost interest after he got diagnosed. He just felt there was no point in continuing to try to build up a career as a musician.

He looked at the ring. He was going to give it to Jimin. It was something he could remember him by.

He had shown Jimin his songs before. To say the least, he had a fan.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had to give the ring to him before it was too late.

His body felt heavy as he had to drag himself out of his room. He slipped on a pair of white crocs and flung a cardigan over his pale arms before heading outside. He was hit by a harsh breeze. It was dark and raining.

It was as if his lungs were being pressed on. He couldn't breathe properly.

He knocked on Jimin's door. He got no response. His legs shook, weak under his body. Maybe he hadn't heard him.

He rang the doorbell. No response. Had Jimin gone out? Was he sleeping? It was getting late. The moon loomed high in the sky, dimly shining through the clouds.

He creaked the door to Jimin's apartment open, finding the place empty. His shoes weren't in the hallway.

Where could he be?

He needed to find him. It was urgent

As he turned around to leave, he went into a coughing fit. Blood splattered onto his palm. He knew he should be lying in bed, letting his body rest. But this was more important.

He ran. Ran the best he could with aching lungs and a frail body.

He thought; where would Jimin go this late? Where would he be when it was dark and raining? A thought struck him like lightning.

He knew where he was. He had to be there. The bench by the library.

He sprinted there, ignoring his hurting body. He was in so much pain; unbearable pain. He wanted to rip his lungs out of his chest.