DEATH, IT IS NOT THE GREATEST EVIL OF ALL;
they stood on the stage, only bright lights flashing back at them in waves of strangers. tears fell from their eyes as their support applauded them from their seats and smiles were brighter than the objects that swayed in their palms.
the seven boys took a hold of each others hand, standing tall in one line. a few looked down the line and the others stared back at the people they considered a family screaming their names. "this," yoongi began to speak into his microphone, but paused as his body slouched forward.
his hands caught his knees and jimin slid his hand up and down his back, trying to not cry himself. yoongi fought to straighten out again, but gave up and brought his microphone to his lips instead, "this is all we could ever ask for," his voice broke, the crowds cooing as it echoed through out the arena. "thank you," he sighed, jimin intertwining his hand with his once again.
they all looked at each other now, even yoongi who was still fighting away the grip at his throat, and smiled. they knew what things were coming to; they just didn't know if this was truly the end. "we can't promise to come back," namjoon coughed into his sleeve, taking a moment to let the water brimming his lashes to fall, "but we can promise that you guys, every single one of you, will always have our love."
together they rose their hands, everyone cheered loudly in response, waving the bulbs in their hands high. "always," they shouted into their separate microphones in sync. everyone's eyes traced the crowded bodies before leaving the stage one by one.
jimin was the only one who stayed. he sat at the end of the walkway and crossed his legs, leaving his chin in his palm. he bit the inside of his cheek as the tsunami finally broke down his dam and slid down his flushed cheeks.
the lights died out and people began to leave areas vacant. he waited till the very last person was no longer in sight before his body laid flat against the warm platform. his eyes diverted from the dead lights to his wrist, where each and every member that he considered a brother was written evilly in cursive.
slowly, his hands were wrapped around the small waves of his hair. his body began to stiffen as his legs bent up and his heart began to race. he knew what was coming; he just didn't know when.
he was left alone that night, on the last stage he would ever stand on, screaming at the top of his lungs and praying to God that he would forgive him.
IT IS WORSE TO WANT TO DIE, AND NOT BE ABLE TO.
