Flowers and Broken Hearts

Prologue

Park Jimin, 20, Five Years Ago

Everything was a passing blur outside the bus.

The beautiful towers, structures, and architectures passed them, owing oohs and ahhs from the tourists beside them as the bright colors slowly trudged into their sights. The surrounding seemed magical, with the clicks and flashes distributing to the unrealistic feel. They were like paintings lovingly made by careful, expert hands — but to Jimin, they were nothing but mixed palettes of colors, smudged against the window he had been staring at.

Jimin had been gazing out all throughout the ride. It felt weird, being back home after seventeen years — if he would ever dare call Seoul 'home'. Detached, that's what he thought his mind felt like. Detached from his real home, detached from his real life.

He tried summoning the excitement; after all, hadn't he been wanting this? To visit and stay in South Korea, to at least see what his birthplace looked like. Wanting to feel what a normal person would do when they're finally back home, he stared at the passing buildings, silent as he looked at them without really seeing. From the plane to the bus, he had been silent.

Silent, staring and staring, never-ending staring. Still trying to encourage himself, still lying to himself.

"Jimin."

The voice was quiet and soft, like a whisper, like the way his name sounded through the ringing in his ear, sounding like an echo through the gurgle of the water around him. Wait — no, he shouldn't be thinking about that. Forget, forget, forget—

But he already remembered, and his hands were shaking — his breathing turned ragged—

Suddenly he was there, inside that room, staring at her — he was backing up against the wall, he was watching as she died — he could hear that long beeping sound, the flat line on the monitor—

"Jimin!" The voice was an urgent whisper, concerned, panicking, then like lightning, he was back, staring wide-eyed at Jungkook, gasping air.

He's here, he's here, he's here. He wasn't there, he's back, it's gone, he's breathing.

He was looking at the hands clenched around his; they were tensed. Then he glanced at Jungkook's wide doe eyes, communicating with silent pleas.

He's here. She's gone.

"Are you okay?" Jungkook was asking, voice a whisper above the babble of chatter around them. "Do you need anything? You're — you're not thinking about that, are you? Hyung—"

Jimin closed his eyes, shaking from the sudden memory. Then taking a deep breath, he tried controlling himself. In. Out. In. Out. Breath, Jimin.

"Hyung—"

His long lashes lifted, then Jimin grinned at Jungkook, feeling shaken and all over the place. His grin felt fake, felt forced.

"I'm fine," he said in a tone that proclaimed Jungkook was overacting. "I'm fine. We're fine. Everything's okay."

He removed his gaze and bit his lip; he was back to staring at the window, looking as if he could now see and feel what the tourists felt in this journey. Looking as if he belonged, even though he knew he wouldn't. He'd never belong because he was someone else's.

Lies, he thought, still pretending under Jungkook's gaze. Everything was nothing but lies.

This prologue is dedicated to Joonless. ❤