You never liked crowded places. You felt suffocation crawling through your veins everyday when you had to go to your workplace.
So when you decided to finally get yourself a scheduled place far away from the town, somewhere in the woods, you came u...
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(Tip: Listen to the song above "Reborn" by Arina tara after finishing the epilogue~or maybe before! Depends on you~ you'll get the feel Enjoy)
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"AaaAHHHhacccHhoou-"
Damn, the goblet with it's curves and edges really collected a lot of dust!
Sniffing a little, I got back to working to make it squeaky clean.
The museum had come to life in the cabin, with every corner telling pieces of his story. The walls, once bare, were adorned with his artwork-charcoal sketches capturing fragile memories, oil paintings that bled sorrow and love in equal measure.
I had even displayed fragments of his poetry, written in his neat, deliberate hand on yellowed parchment. I wanted his life, his art, his story to linger for anyone who ventured this far into the woods.
But not everything was open for viewing. A part of me clung fiercely to those Polaroids-the ones I had taken during those haunting nights when his spirit moved through the air like a whisper. There was one image in particular, the one taken of his coffin, his face peaceful in repose, that remained hidden in a wooden drawer in the attic. That image felt toointimate, too sacred, for the eyes of strangers.
Most days, the museum remained quiet, with few visitors finding their way here.
But I didn't mind. The solitude felt right, as if this place belonged to him and me alone, a secret kept between us.
As I was cleaning the goblet used in his final ritual, the silence was broken by an unexpected knock at the door.
It startled me; the museum was closed for the weekend, and nobody should have been out here. My fingers tightened around the goblet as I debated whether to answer or ignore it.
But curiosity pulled me forward. With a steadying breath, I approached the door, my hand hesitating on the knob. When I finally opened it, the world seemed to tilt off its axis.
Standing there, his silhouette framed by the dying light of dusk, was
Jungkook
Or at least, that's what my heart screamed as I took in the same round doe eyes, the pale skin, the curve of his lips with the familiar mole beneath.
My vision blurred, and I felt myself sway as if I might collapse.The goblet slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a clang, but I barely registered it.
My breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, and just before my legs gave out, the figure in the doorway stepped forward, he widened his eyes and caught me before I dropped to the ground. My breaths were heavy as I asked, "Y-you?! How-"
He opened his mouth in shock, still holding me close. Steadying me with firm hands, warm on my waist, he breathed out
"Whoa, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. It was softer than Jungkook's but carried the same warmth, the same gentleness. He held me upright, his touch grounding yet surreal.
