Treehouse | Jikook

Prologue.

AUGUST 27, 1996

A sense of familiarity seeped into Jimin's body, his feet finally passing the threshold of the Jeons' yard. He couldn't help but take a deep breath of air in hope to calm his raging emotions, but he was unsuccessful; Jimin's heart kept racing and his muscles wouldn't stop tensing up.

From observing, everything was just the same as he remembered: brick walls, brown shutters, concrete driveway with an old off-white Honda that belong to Mrs. Jeon, and an old treehouse Jimin could see peeking out from behind the one-story house.

Their treehouse.

It wasn't all surprising things were placed just like they were – it's only been a month – but the homey presence that Jimin loved was missing, gone in the form of an angel. Everything that felt right, wasn't.

Jimin felt empty, almost sick, as he blankly forced himself to walk down the concrete path leading to the front door of the house. He could faintly hear the dull clicking of his shoes hitting the hard surface, but the thumping of his racing heart over masked it. Once he reached the door, he just stood and stared at the brass doorknob. Just a month ago, he'd walk in unannounced and no one cared – but he had to stop himself now. That was a month ago and things were different now. Jimin knew Mrs. Jeon was expecting him because he had called last night, but it felt too weird to do that now. Like he was a stranger.

He settled on knocking this time.

Within a short amount of time, the door creaked open to reveal a woman. She was on the rounder side, her features softening from years of age, and wrinkles from years of laughter. But now you couldn't tell if those wrinkles were from what they used to be, or if they were simply from years of frowning.

The woman greeted him warmly, "Hello, Jimin. Please, make yourself at home." She pulled back the door further to allow him access to the home, the kitchen automatically coming into his line of sight.

Out of habit, Jimin glances to the wall of photographs that are situated to the left on a wall that halfway separates him from the living room. The boy's eyes locked his a pair of big, brown ones and Jimin's heart clenched, the backs of his eyes slightly stinging. In the picture, the boy in it was laughing happily, the joy of his sixteenth birthday taking over his features, large bunny like teeth on display for everyone to see.

Jimin couldn't look away, so caught up in soaking in the beauty of his childhood best friend.

"Would you mind eating with me, Jimin? Jaehyun is working so I could use the company."

The orange haired boy snapped back to reality, not realizing in his trance that his eyes had begun to turn glassy. Jimin silently thanked her for snapping him out of it before he actually started to cry.

He cleared his throat to try and release the tension building up there. "I'm not hungry but thank you, Shinhye-ssi."

The woman sent him a wavering smile — so much weaker than what they used to be, Jimin noticed. "Honey, just call me Shinhye, you have for years now." The boy's eyes dropped to the floor at her words. She was right but he couldn't help but feel somewhat weird around her now. It's not her fault. "And oh please. You look like a stick," Shinhye chuckled.

The words were light but they carried heavy guilt on the boy. Jimin's appetite had dropped drastically over the past month. Most of the time he just wasn't hungry.