Remember Me | JiKook

The Lost Year : Periphery

Ironically​ the sun shone at it's brightest. As if, it was taunting the ones wearing black. It would have been better if it rained, if the heavens poured down on him. He deserved that and much more, or so he thought.

Very ungraciously, Jimin was holding a bouquet of striped carnations and laughing through his tears. His friends thought he had gone insane but he was just numb. He didn't know what to feel, regret? Sorrow? Penitence? He didn't have the luxury to repent anymore.

"Mark, what can I say about him? He was the most beautiful person I've ever come across. He spread colour everywhere he went and did the same to my wonted life. In this dark and ignorant world, he was one of the few souls worth saving. But I squandered it..." He looked down at his feet pitying his own state and continued again.

"He never really got the love and affection he deserved. He lost his parents and his grandmother tried to make up for that love and I'm sure she was doing a very good job till I fucked it up. He--he was worth the world and I am lucky to have had a place in his heart once. I really, really hope that he is finally at peace." He finished his speech wiping his tears away. He didn't care about the stares he received, he just wanted to hold him close one more time. He wanted to say all those things he never got to say the first time around. He wanted to run his hand through his crimson hair one last time. But it really was too late to go back.

"Jimin..." Yoongi hugged him from behind. "It was not your fault"

"It wasn't a fault at all, Yoongi. It was a sin"

"Jimin, please stop punishing yourself and others around you. You still have us, your mother..."

"He was the very light I lived to see, to feel. Now he's gone and everything is black for my lack of accountability. Yoongi, I don't deserve to live"
He stared into the brunette's dark eyes which could rip out your soul and smiled.

"Don't you dare say that. Everyone deserves to live no matter what they have done. You cannot be the judge of that, Jimin"

"Then tell me, why are murderers executed?"

___

Jimin went to his house after the funeral, much to his mother's dismay. He collected all the Polaroids he had of them. He grabbed that small bear and put it inside his backpack. When he was done stripping his room of all their memories, he lied on the bed where they had spent countless hours just wasting time. He lied in hope of smelling his familiar scent again. He ran his hands through the other side craving the feeling of his skin against his fingers. In the end, he wished his last goodbyes to that room and walked away never to return.

That room had only the memories of the older, cold and dead memories. That bed only held wrinkles left by the 19-year-old. The pictures only had the shadow of Mark and nothing else. It wasn't enough for Jimin to get by.

Three weeks passed by and Jimin refused to step out of his room even for once. He would just hold his pictures to his chest and smile to himself. Oddly enough, Mark's thought only brought comfort and warmth to the younger. He never, for once, cried after the funeral. He caressed each and every picture of his and kept repeating his name over and over again as if doing so would bring back the dead. But he was long gone.

He sat up from his usual mourning position on the bed which was usually being curled up with his knees touching his jaw. For the first time in three weeks he stepped out but not before locking everything inside the little chamber beneath his study table. He carelessly threw the key behind his back and left for his destination.

He wore the pullover sweater that Mark gave him and sniffed it. The scent of the older was faint but it was there. He smiled at the memory of a drenched Mark who came running all the way at midnight just because he forgot it was Jimin's birthday.

//Flashback//

"What the fuck are you doing here at this hour?! And you're drenched!"

"I'm so sorry, Jimin. I totally forgot it was your birthday because I was so busy with all this and-"

"It's okay, just get inside" Mark just nodded and followed after Jimin.

"You're right. I am drenched" Mark sighed and started taking off his clothes. Jimin stopped him midway clearly because he was too embarrassed.

"I'll give you some of my clothes, see if they fit. And uh-change when I'm gone" he threw a gray crew-neck t-shirt at him and left the room.

When Jimin returned, he found Mark wearing the t-shirt and his boxers only.

"You never gave me any pants" Mark shrugged and Jimin just sighed. The next morning Mark left wearing Jimin's clothes.

//End of flashback//

"I never returned these to you" Jimin said to himself and walked down the stairs. He flashed a smile towards his mother and left without answering any of her questions.

It was a windy day and a perfect one for what he was about to do. He walked all the way to the familiar street which holds oh so many memories. Some worth holding on to, some not. That day, another memory was made which caused him to lose the existing ones. There was once again the smell of blood on Easy Street.

Adios amigos

Edited : 11.11.17

I'm so done with the author's notes