Heaven on Earth (P.JM x M.YG) | ✔

December 11th [2017] / / Alabaster

Jimin sipped on the bitter contents of the auburn bottle he was cradling in his fair palms, his pristine features contorting in repulsion as the dense liquid hit the back of his throat.

The fact that he hadn't gotten used to the taste of the cheap beer he had swiped from a deli after he emptied the third container spoke volumes; the brown-eyed hadn't ever touched alcohol in his life prior to that day.

At that very moment, though, he felt as if he had lost all hope. From the movies that the boy'd seen, he knew that he would only regret his ignoble actions the next day but, frankly, he wished that there wouldn't be a next day.

The male felt absolutely insignificant and worthless, the events that had taken place a mere twenty-four hours ago constantly replaying in his head like a broken record, every repeat tearing away a shred of his sanity.

The slender boy stared up at the star-speckled sky, the copper substance sedating his eager gaze.

Every alabaster blemish burned his sensitive pupils, but he couldn't bring himself to tear his lazy orbs away from them. The boy tipped the bottle, more of the beer sliding down his throat.

Jimin felt the twisting pain in his heart dulling with every swig, his ultimate goal being eliminating the wrenching sensation in its burdensome entirety. He threw the container carelessly to the other end of his yard, the glass shattering as it hit the cement wall separating his garden from the neighbor's.

He sighed, the unexpected crash louder than he would've liked. His migraines had been getting worse and, now that the noise had snapped him out of his dazed trance, the faint pulsating had returned to his occipital lobe.

As if the sound of the bottle breaking into what looked like a million pieces hadn't been enough, the moon suddenly appeared all too prominent. Feeling every ray of the dim yet atrocious light it exuded, Park placed both hands over his eyes, the satellite becoming too much for his gaze to handle.

The brightness wasn't what was bothering him, though. It was more the harsh, judgmental glare that the crescent was emanating. He felt as though the celestial body was looking right through his weak silhouette, nitpicking over his every flaw. The disappointed aura of the planetoid cancelled out every temporarily positive effect the alcohol had on him, shoving a plethora of apprehension into its place.

Groaning exaggeratedly, he issued his first attempt at getting up. Needless to say, he hadn't succeeded; all the boy's movement had accomplished was greatening his now unendurable headache, wave after wave of nausea crashing down over his defeated silhouette.

Just as the youth had decided that staying in place would have been better, he heard the jingling of silver keys, the familiar rattling undoubtedly caused by his mother's presence. Jimin cursed under his breath, slurring the string of profanities. He had no choice but to force himself up, his legs almost giving out beneath the weight of his body.

Park tumbled towards the stack of shattered canteens, maintaining his balance proving itself to be much more difficult than he initially thought it would've been. He scooped the shards of glass into his tender palms, feeling the sharp pieces slicing the fair skin of his hands, crimson leaking out of the shallow wounds.

Without second thought, Jimin discarded any evidence of his consummation of the alcohol by throwing it over the wall and into his neighbor's backyard. Maybe it wasn't the best method, but his senses were too dulled to think of any consequences the action could have.

As soon he disposed of the flasks that had been doused in a thin layer of his blood, he wiped the rouge on his pants, hoping that the inky material was dark enough to conceal the presence of the substance. Jimin moved as quickly as he could, his legs chittering maniacally. He felt as though his bones had unexplainably disappeared, leaving his limbs in critical shape.

Just as the boy made it into the house, the front door slammed open. His mother was steaming as she threw herself onto the couch, paying no attention to her son.

Park let out a barely audible sigh of relief, tiptoeing to his room while his parent dozed off. Sure, most nights played out like this one when the woman got home from work, but that didn't prevent him from worrying about her reaction to finding him drunk.

Luckily, the prominent scent of alcohol and cologne lingering over her drowned out the stench of the beer that Jimin's clothes had absorbed.

He sat down on his bed, cradling his head in his hands. At that very moment, his cranium had seemed far too heavy for his body, the boy suddenly feeling every single milligram weighing his neck down.

Park exhaled, the beer on his breath contaminating the previously pristine, rose-scented space. He looked around the dark room, his gaze suddenly landing on his phone.

The younger bit down on his lip before reaching for the device. He tapped his thumb against it, deep in thought, before unlocking the screen.

Jimin hastily opened a messaging app, scrolling down to Yoongi's number. He decided that, once more, he'd worry about the consequences later.

I'm sorry.

‏Sent

The pink-haired frowned at the absence of a notification stating that the message had been delivered. Shrugging, he put the phone down, a few droplets of blood visible on the screen.

The boy laid down, boring his eyes into the ceiling before gingerly picking the phone up again, calling Yoongi's number. The second he put his mobile up to his ear, his heart dropped.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Error: you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.

*

OOOOHOOOOOHOOOO WHAT COULD THIS MEAN?