Reasons » yoonmin

Chapter 7

It was this type of a feeling that always bore its way into Jimin. It really did.

How could that black, darker than the pit of an ocean and more pigmented than space, suddenly feel so much darker, so much lower? He knew a lot of people referred to something as a "breaking point". But his kept on going and going on, the depth of his ocean of depression continuing endlessly.

Yoongi felt like a bit was stuck in his throat as he tried to forget the red note shreds on the floor and calmly stepped over them, focusing on how nice it was to have some coffee. Really focusing. Did Jimin resent him so much? Did he resent Taehyung as well? Was it only a hidden part of his personality, or was that flash of something in Jimin's eyes something else than hatred when Taehyung's name had been announced like a name of a song that everybody hated? Only because it was so beautiful it would never fail to make the audience cry?

He chewed slightly bitterly on the inside of his cheek, seating himself on one of the cold chairs of the dining table. He couldn't hear anything of Jimin anymore and he almost craved to hear a door bang, so childishly, and some angry footsteps lead their way outside and maybe outside the building without running into a friend this time? Yoongi sat there, watching how his coffee steamed and wondered, would it be a good thing after all if Jimin would've managed to get away. But he was an adult and he needed to come face-to-face with himself.

Even if Yoongi had been a jerk all this time to Jimin, he still struggled to understand why the other didn't trust him. He had been nice to Jimin something like three times now. Wasn't that more than enough?

Jimin wanted to go throw Yoongi's emotionless face away and couldn't stop a chuckle at the thought of Yoongi's face if he'd be shoved into a trash can, but he quickly stopped. No. He was very determined this time to stay mad. To stay distant. To be something that Yoongi had been to him all this time. He couldn't deny it - a part of him was craving something so cold-hearted and nothing that he'd normally want to be doing. Revenge. But how would he be executing this plan? He knew it'd only make the matters worse. Actually, at least ten times worse. He didn't feel like sleeping nor like running outdoors repeatedly. So instead he chose to try to collect himself and go for a nice walk, maybe to stop by at a café of some sort.

He changed into a stable set of clothes; a hoodie and some jeans, accompanied by a black baseball cap and a fake leather backpack.

And so, with a wave of determination, real or made-up, did it absolutely matter which one, he stormed a bit more calmly this time to the front door, put his favourite pair of sneakers on and left. After making sure he had his keys, phone, and wallet, for at least 5 times. It was the norm. He felt like he needed to grip onto that a lot more firmly than usual. His castle had been broken and he, also, felt somewhat broken.

Jimin had to admit that sometimes life's problems seemed to be fixed simply by a soda and a bench in the park. He was sipping an orange coloured soda which surprisingly enough also tasted like oranges, feeling the sparkles of the carbon dioxide on his tongue. It did taste quite energizing, he thought, sitting on a slightly worn out wooden bench's edge and watching some pigeons crowd over some pieces of bread on the ground. He knew bread wasn't a very good choice of food for birds but he wouldn't go snatch those pieces away from that amount of hungry birds. He bit his lower lip as he realised, it feeling like a bucket of cold water poured on his head, that he cared almost more about some birds eating incorrect type of food than his roommate.

He sighed and lowered the can of soda on the bench next to him, digging his phone out of his pocket. He wasn't one of those stylish people who would carry around a notebook or a laptop for efficient working.

There was a soft breeze of air. Maybe he would've had needed this already yesterday. Good thing he hadn't run into a friend yet today, even if he resembled a lot less of a mess than he had yesterday.

Jimin still saw those red paper shreds, the paper being pulled apart like in slow-motion right before his eyes, the pieces scattering on the floor like a beautiful snowstorm but leaving out the beauty and staying with the storm. He didn't feel very proud of it.

It was such a strange thing indeed how going outside by himself and allowing himself to have a can of soda felt like the first breath he'd taken in days. It was in some way so freeing. He was a strict person. He liked to reward himself and knew, deep down inside, every person was craving some kind of comfort. He liked to think that he wasn't like that. That Jimin wasn't someone who liked comfort nor needed it. But he did.

And the most important place to get it from was himself.

But he again told himself he didn't need it. He was strong. As strong as a foundation of a castle, he'd sworn.

Indeed.

He felt like he should be an artist, to be describing his life with lines of lead and then the biggest worry in his life would be an annoying smudge his hand that would ruin the right edge of his artwork every single time and the new notebook which's paper wouldn't feel right at first. But he'd get used to it.

Exactly like he got used to Yoongi.

And suddenly it had been something he had ignored. Like lead on the side of his hand, he had swept it away and kept on going.

He got up, slung the bag over his shoulders and grabbed his now half empty drink and looked at the park. He needed to go see Taehyung.