Crush me in your Arms

Forever Us

Maybe it's the fame, Jimin thinks. Being an Idol for 8 years straight isn't an easy thing. They crossed all stages of disappointment and grief before reaching the stage they are currently in. Winning multiple awards, conquering the music world, and healing people is a part of their routine but how is he healing himself? Jimin leans his back against the foot of the bed, a glass of wine swirling between his fingers as he ponders over all the things that might have been correct if they were true to themselves.

Nothing is easy and nothing can soothe the burning ache inside his chest. The massive bedroom looks eerily cold and lifeless. When did he clean it? Jimin doesn't remember, he doesn't remember when he ate his last meal. Taehyung remembers right? Jimin chuckles at his stupidity. How long can he depend on others? The glass scatters into tiny fragments making Jimin flinch at the sound. A few cuts form on his bare legs, bleeding a little just like his heart.

The sound of his phone going off catches him off guard. He walks over to the counter filled with pieces of paper while his feet bleed a little profusely. That doesn't pain anymore. If he is being honest, he can't feel anything. He barely remembers the life he led 6 months ago. Isn't that when everything crashed down on him? He stares at the phone, contemplating whether to lift the call or leave it unanswered just like the previous 12 times.

// Hello! //

// Thank God! You are alive. Where the fuck did you die? //

Taehyung's concerned screams echo inside his ear. How long has it been since he heard his best friend's voice? Jimin stands still, eyes heavy with unshed tears and prominent eyebags, a testament to the pain he is feeling.

// What's wrong? //

Is this how he sounds when he sings? Jimin wants to scream and laugh at himself. How did his fans even listen to his songs? His voice is groggy, dull, lifeless, and screechy. The grip on the phone tightens as Jimin tries to stabilize his breathing.

// You dare to ask what's wrong? Seriously Jimin? It's been 8 days since you showed up to the company. When are you planning to come? //

Why is everyone acting normal like nothing changed in their lives? They aren't 7 anymore and why is everyone okay with it? A wave of hurt washes over Jimin as his stomach churns with nausea.

// You do know what happened right? //

Jimin finds himself questioning. His voice echoes inside the dull room, screaming back at him for being so dumb. It's been 6 months; he needs to accept the fact. He hears Taehyung sigh on the other line before Yoongi comes back on the line.

// You need to pull yourself together, Jimin. We can't slack off! //

And the line goes silent. The beep hurts his heart more than it should. Is everyone giving up on him? Jimin walks towards the mirror taking in the sight of himself. He looks like a walking corpse. Hair tangled up in knots, worn-out sweater, and ripped baggy jeans. When was the last time he took a shower? His eyes held a vacant emptiness, a window into the depths of his loneliness that stretched like an endless expanse of desolation.

Jimin shakes his head taking slow steps into the shower stall that smells nothing like amber. He loved that scent so much because Jimin showered right after Jungkook was done. The name brings back a ton of memories that crash inside his brain. He stumbles on his step and grips the counter hard so, as not to fall face-first on the wet floor. A few tears cascade down his cheeks and Jimin holds his head, wondering why his cheeks are wet.

The spare towel beside him was a silent reminder of the void that echoed in his heart, the walls closing in like prison bars around his fractured spirit. Jimin wants to run away, he wants to jump off a cliff. He turns on his heels in an instant, sprinting into the room and shuffling through the dresser. A few bottles break on the floor, causing gashes on his pale skin but the Idol doesn't care. He searches for an olive-green bottle, a perfume that his husband uses the most.