We were reckless.
How did we get from kissing to you pinning me to the wall to us both on the floor in a tangle of limbs?
We made an explosion that day, Park Jimin.
And now, we are suffering the consequences of it.
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"You look like you have more color in your cheeks," my mom brushed her hand on my face.
I missed her gentle touches.
I miss her love.
"You even got to eat a little of your pasta," she looked down at my plate.
I nodded and then excused myself from dinner.
I headed upstairs.
I headed to that blue hoodie.
I safely tucked the hoodie in my closet so I always knew where it was.
Before I put the hoodie on, I brushed my hair. I brushed my teeth. And for the first time in a week, I put on a little mascara.
I didn't know why.
I'd only met you for ten minutes at most.
Still, when I ensured I looked a little presentable, I took the blue hoodie and slipped it on.
You were expecting me that night.
You said so yourself.
You were back in your room, this time sitting on your bed on your phone and with earbuds in. Your school uniform hung on the wall.
The moment you saw me, you took out your earbuds and stood up.
You were taller than me by a good head. You were handsome. You had a soft complexion, with smooth cheeks and your skin clear and practically glowing. For the first time, you smiled at me. A single dimple on your right cheek appeared.
"I had a feeling you'd come," he said. "And by the way, I got detention yesterday for running out in the middle of my history exam."
I blushed a tiny bit.
"Oh, and I also got my first ever F on my test because of you." You didn't sound angry, you just sounded amused.
I muttered an apology.
You tilted your head. "Hey, what about your school? Why weren't you at your own school yesterday?"
My blush faded and once again, the dark desolate feeling entered me again. "I dropped out," I admitted quietly.
"Because of your sixty days left?" You asked, equally as quietly.
"I had sixty-five days left," I replied, twisting your blue hoodie in my hands. "Now I have fifty-nine."
"Why?" You reached out as if to touch my cheek, but at the last minute you dropped your hand.
"They- the doctors- found my pancreatic cancer too late," I told you.
Tears suddenly burned in my eyes and I quickly ripped off the hoodie before you could see me cry.
For the first time since my sixty-five days, I cried. I wept bitterly.
My mom came in and held me until I finally fell asleep with glittering streams down my cheeks.
