"Life is about give and take; you know this better than anyone; the deal is clear, either you take an in, or war it shall be.
"It's indeed give and take, so why do I feel like the only one who gives without receiving anything in return?"
"Because th...
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When was the last time you looked at the sky? No thoughts, no brooding, just looking, reminiscing, enjoying the ethereal painting above the smooth canvas. It is one of the first arts created. One of the seven wonders of the world, or whatever. It is the creature of the Almighty in collaboration with nature; yes, nature the one you forgot to admire, to relish. What made you think that life is endless, made you think that your eyes will never blink and remain closed for eternity? Why would you look at the sky and its immense splendor and still think about the life of yours that can't hold a candle to such beauty?
What made you think that Jimin is more important than your reconciliation with Mother Nature?
But oh, you were looking at the sky alright, delighting in the clear, horizon painted topaz. A clear-cut diamond illuminating the obscurity of your path. Softness in the grips of the mighty ceiling that held your edges at the right corner before they would break free. You looked, but the sky refused to give you solace, still holding a grudge for being ignored, spiking your irk with resemblances of the man who gave you the cold shoulder and pivoted toward a path in which he saw profit.
A path that you were not allowed to tread.
The topaz was his eyes when he wore contacts. You often praised him for the edgy look, and he always told you it was more a source of annoyance he would have liked to avoid if his vision had been as perfect as yours. Sun was the golden hue of his skin when he discarded his shirt while he devoted himself to manual labor, like fixing or washing his car. You had spent hours that the clock refused to count, watching sweat drip down strained muscles, but greed never met ampleness. Jimin was summer, and how could you not miss your summer when it had been winter for so long that your bones got cold?
You didn't know what you might find or see when you got there and stood guard in the corner of his alley. Guard so you could feel better about the stalking you were engaging in. It's been hours, and your desire was still stubborn, refusing to fall on open ears. Hours and Jimin were only visible in the resemblances that reminded you of him but were nowhere to be seen on the premises of his home.
And when he came, you wished he didn't.
You'd pretend to be spoiled and throw off the last vestige of restraint and say that the fault lies with the life that fate gifted you. Would say that if you had had a caring family and a loving husband, maybe, just maybe, you would have forgotten Jimin, locked him in the hippocampus, and retrieved the memory when the raven locks became grey, only to put on a bashful smile and tint your cheeks pink to reminisce youth and the surging emotions it brought. Too bad you had nothing of all this.
Maybe you never would have, either.
"You really want me to move out again, there's no doubt about it now." Jimin seethed. His annoyance was evident in his heaving chest, the movements of his fingers, which out of habit found his curls and stroked through midnight to release some of his anger. "Are you that selfish? Can't you at least care about the innocent child who has done nothing wrong but be related to me?"
