letters | ksj ✓

09

No one's home today. The maknaes are with Hoseok, working on their dancing, and Namjoon and Yoongi have gone off to the studio again to produce some new songs they've been constantly talking about for the past few days.

But there's no talking today.

Today, there's none of Jungkook and Jimin's teasing – none of Taehyung's loud, exaggerated practicing for Hwarang, none of the impromptu rapping competitions between the older boys. Today, there's no bursting into laughter over a stupid mistake or dad joke. Today, the dorm is silent.

That makes today The Day for Jin.

No one is here to see what he's going to do or foil his plans. No one has to watch him go. No one can stop him from going. He's figured it out, finally: he'll swallow some pills, go to sleep, and not wake up.

It'll be quick and easy and painless. The others won't have to see him suffering or looking a mess. Their last impression of him won't hurt them too badly if he looks like he's just asleep.

They'll be okay, he figures, and so will he.

But he's still going to take care of them one last time.

Jin wants to laugh at himself as he goes grocery shopping. It's such a mundane task, he thinks, but it's so important, because even on his last day he refuses to let his boys go hungry. He knows dancing always takes a lot out of them, and the maknaes are going to be expecting dinner when they get home.

He wonders who's going to cook once he's gone. Yoongi's a decent cook, and so is Hoseok, but most of what either of them can make consists of simple meals that the boys will grow bored of fairly quickly. Jimin and Jungkook won't be much help in the kitchen – they don't know much past how to operate a blender – and it'll be a shock if Taehyung even knows where the blender is.

He sighs. They'll probably start ordering takeout more often – too often, which is plain unhealthy – until one of them figures out how to cook.

It doesn't really matter to him who the new chef of the group will be, although he's vaguely interested as to whether they'll end up a better cook than him. Truth be told, Jin doesn't particularly care who cooks as long as no one lets Namjoon near the stove.

In retrospect, no one should let Namjoon near the kitchen at all, and that includes the microwave. It's a simple machine, but the last time he was allowed to use it, he put a metal spoon in there and to this day they still don't know what blew up.

Today, Jin buys more food than he usually would; he knows it'll be a while before the rest of them figure out they need to go grocery shopping regularly rather than on impulse. It'll probably be Jimin or Yoongi who takes over the grocery shopping, he figures, because they're the ones who have helped him with it often enough to think they know what they're doing even if they don't.

He knows he's probably overanalyzing the situation, but he kind of hopes that Namjoon is the one who takes care of purchases in general because he's the best at math.

The majority of his regrets have been ignored and very nearly forgotten until now, but he's very suddenly hit with the wish that he'd at least told one of them how they need to manage the shopping. Hell, he wishes he'd taught them more about cooking; he fears that all they'll remember of his amateur cooking lessons is that he uses a lot of onions.

He brushes at his eyes, and although there are no onions in front of him while he drives, he blames them anyway.

Jin drives way over the speed limit on the way home; he's never been a reckless driver, but he figures that it can't hurt to be an idiot for the last day of his life. He neglects to wear his seatbelt, driving too fast and too carelessly, and when he parks the car he has to sit there for a minute and wonder where the old Kim Seokjin has gone.

Maybe this is his sanity leaving, he thinks. Maybe this is a sign that he really is losing it and that he needs to go as soon as possible.

It takes multiple trips to get all the food inside – he stops counting after the fourth one – and he kind of misses having Jimin to help him carry the bags in. It's okay, though, because this is the last time he has to do it, so he doesn't mind.

He cooks a rather large meal for dinner (mostly as an apology for what he's going to do) and sets up six plates on the dinner table. An unrecognizable, cold feeling settles into his chest at the sight of the seventh plate that he leaves in the cabinet, but he ignores it and grabs the cheap wine that they've hidden from Jungkook in the back of the fridge.

Jin goes to his room and takes his notebook out from under his pillow. He flips through to rereads his notes, making sure they say what he wants them to, and adds a hasty P.S. – I didn't mean it when I called you a pig to the end of Jimin's letter for no reason other than he feels like he needs to.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to say it, but he does, and once the words are written he wants to cry for reasons he can't understand.

He shakes off the heavy emotions flooding through his mind. Now is not the time for him to second guess himself, and he's not going to let it be.

Jin downs half the bottle of wine within a few minutes. It tastes good, subtly sweet, and although he knows it's the furthest thing there is from expensive he doesn't mind in the slightest. The price of the alcohol doesn't matter when all it's doing is helping the pills shut him down.

There's already an angry haze slipping into his mind, coating everything else, and he stumbles as he makes his way to the bathroom. He's a complete lightweight when it comes to alcohol, so he's already feeling the effects.

The sleeping pills are in a cabinet messily filled with over-the-counter medications that none of them have ever bothered to organized. He rummages through it carelessly, and although his eyesight is blurring it doesn't take him long to find the labeled container.

Jin smiles wryly and empties the container into his hand, staring at the small white capsules. There's too many of them to count in his drunken state, so he figures there should enough to do the job.

He thinks of the precious boys he's leaving behind and is overwhelmed with a rush of rueful pride toward them. They're his world, they're his sunshine, and they've been his support for so long. Perhaps if he had told them what was wrong, things would have turned out alright, but he's never said a word to them about it. It's gotten to be too much for him to handle on his own, and it's too late; he's beyond help.

Jin loves them so much, and he hopes they know that.

He tilts his head back and shoves the pills in his mouth, swallowing harshly, and when he looks into the mirror in front of him the cracks they haven't yet fixed seem to mock him; it's too late to go back no matter what he wants.

So Jin walks slowly back to his bed, clutching the bottle of wine and the empty container of pills, and carefully sets the objects in his hands on the windowsill. He puts his notebook beside them, scribbling a messy BTS, READ THIS on the front cover.

He sinks into the sheets, pulls the covers up to his chin, and closes his eyes.