- jimin's pov -
i didnt know what to think.
i didnt know how to feel.
"i had a really, really mild anxiety attack before going to the carnival with you, jimin." he says under his breath, as he drifted off to sleep slowly, his head still on my lap.
i was amazed at how he wasnt asleep, and continued rambling on.
"and then-and then i forgot. jimin i might be- im relapsi-" his voice trembling slightly as i place my index finger over his lips, cutting him off.
"shhh, its okay. everything's-" i inhale sharply, a knot forming in my stomach, "everything's going to be okay."
i look down, caressing his cheek gently as i watched him drift in and out of sleep.
i lean my head on the headboard of his bed, feeling the blood rush to my ears as i looked up at the ceiling, willing myself not to cry. but once that one tear broke free, the rest followed in an unbroken stream.
six years ago, when i was only fifteen, i was still questioning myself about my own sexuality.
"youngjin."
he was nothing but a crush, but soon after we starting talking, he became my best friend, and my first love. as a teen, i lived in a world where merely supporting the "lgbtq+" community wasnt accepted, let alone being queer and part of the community.
i had mixed feelings about myself. i was disgusted, and yet i knew that i had to learn to love myself. it scared me so much, listening to my father preach about how being queer was "disgraceful" or how our neighbour's daughter was kicked out of her house after she came out to them, asking for advice, begging for acceptance.
it hurt.
but it didnt just hurt me.
it hurt him, too.
one day he told me- "i want to meet your parents, jimin."
and of course, like any sane being, i said no.
"why not?" youngjin asked, his voice drenched in disappointment and hurt.
"we aren't ready, youngjin. i'm not ready."
i felt him pry my fingers off his hand as i tried to grab onto his wrist.
i'd hurt him.
again.
"not ready? jimin it's been 13 months-" he yelled angrily, tears now flowing down his cheeks as i held onto him tightly.
"you dont understand, do you? my-my dad he'll abandon me." i whispered softly, as my eyes welled up with tears, making my vision foggy.
he stops crying and pushes me away.
"you. you dont love me."
"youngjin im telli-"
"YOU'D CHOOSE TO SAVE YOUR OWN ASS- SAVE YOUR ASS THAN TO STAY- stay with me." he shouts, voice cracking as those words left his lips.
i left.
he still, still didnt understand.
the next day, i didnt see him at school. i scanned the school canteen, eyes tight with worry. i then went over to his house, only to find the front door unlocked.
"what the fuck?" i muttered under my breath, the front door creaked open slightly. i peeked in and the house was a mess. i ran inside, not bothering to take off my shoes.
"youngjin?"
no reply.
"YOUNGJIN!"
still no reply.
i collapsed to the floor on my knees, ignoring the splinters from the wooden floor that had found their way into my skin.
"ji-jiminie? is-is that you?" a familiar voice rung out.
youngjin's mother.
i placed my palms on the floor, lifted myself off the floor and then made my way towards the direction from where her voice was coming from, ignoring the broken shards of glass on the floor as they pierced and crackled under the thick soles of my school shoes.
when i saw youngjin's mother, i couldnt speak. she was a hysterical mess, and from her mouth came a cry so raw that my eyes were suddenly wet with tears. she cried when she saw me, as if her whole world had vanished before her eyes.
"what's wrong aunty joo? what's wrong? whe-where's youngjin? " i managed to say breathlessly through sobs.
aunty joo was like my own mother. she knew about youngjin and i, and supported the both of us in anyway that she could. she treated me as though i meant as much as youngjin did to her, occasionally fetching me home from school, packing me lunch and even getting me to sleep over at their house when my father came home drunk.
"he's gone, jimin." she whispers, inhaling deeply as she peered up at me with her tear-stricken face, tired from all the screaming, crying and shouting.
"he's gone." she repeats, rocking herself back and forth, hugging her knees tightly.
"there was a car crash last night."
