LACUNA | YOONMIN (Under Editing)

2

*Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness and still become something beautiful.*

2017 from Jimin's narration

She opened the door and invited me in without a word, without questions, without even a hint of judgment. I must have looked miserable enough for her to understand—I’d shown up at her door looking like I’d been through it all, with only rain missing to complete the sorry picture. Her silence didn’t bother me; it felt like comfort. I knew that if she’d asked anything, I would’ve only ended up crying harder.

As any good mother would, she understood. She always understood. Yoongi-hyung loved his mom deeply. He’d spend time with her, doing things that most people our age wouldn’t think to do. He loved talking about the tea she made from dried tangerine peels she prepared for the winter, and he’d rave about her special hazelnut cookies. The private conversations they shared, he kept like treasures, close to his heart.

If only he knew how impossibly I miss him.

All the times I told him I missed him, it was always in a brotherly way. If only he could understand how deeply I miss him now, when it feels like I’m in love and drowning all at once.

Why did missing him feel so different now?

My soul was swirling with emptiness, pounding against my ribcage, aching with the absence of him. It was as if even my soul sensed the void inside me, and with every beat, it threatened to pull away, leaving me hollow.

She gave me a sweet smile while gently stroking my hair.

''Jimin-ah, you know you can get the clothes you need from Yoongi's closet. Sleep here tonight. I won't wake you up in the morning, you can sleep as long as you want.''

After nodding her, she went to the upstairs, and I stared at the door for a while - in front of Yoongi Hyung's bedroom.

Being there both killed and healed me.

It wasn't killing me, but it wasn't keeping me alive either.

I wasn't aware of what I was doing to myself. I wasn't aware that it was me who killed myself while entering his room, wearing his clothes from his closet, using the perfume that was almost completely used on the nightstand opposite his bed and probably why he didn't take it with him for this reason, while entering his bed with his clothes and his scent.

Why had his scent made me docile and made me feel at home? Why do I feel like I need this scent to surround me and protect me like an invisible shield?

While I was lying on the bed, right next to the window , I looked at the moonlight seeping through the curtains and sat up slightly and opened. I was thinking about the things that I had never thought about before and I didn't know why they took up so much space in my heart.

“Did he stand right here at night, looking up at the moon, just like this?”

This is exactly what I was thinking while looking at the full moon and longing to know.

What was he doing while he was here and laying down to sleep in this bed at night?

What was he thinking?

"Did he watch the sky at night, had he dreamed?"

Why did I feel like I knew everything about him when I actually knew nothing?

Yoongi-hyung had chosen his career to stand on his own feet and, perhaps, to quietly nurture his hidden love for music.

He was a musical genius, born with it.