The Dark Red Umbrella • Yoonmin

Epiphany : 43

December 15- Thursday

3:46am. (after the first few sentences)

~

Jimin rested on the floor at the end of the Yoongis bed, his presence unknown to the white-haired man as he sat there peacefully, an aching feeling flooding through his heart as he played games on his phone to take his attention of the man feet away from him.

He looked over at him every few minutes or so, his chest heavy as he looked at the heartbreaking sight, Yoongi's back to him, only the faint sound of blasting music and the scribbling of a pen.

He couldn't do anything. He knew he couldn't and he knew not to intervene. He sat there quietly, almost as if he weren't even there in the first place.

Jimin couldn't leave. His body wouldn't let him move, needing to stay by Yoongi's side, even if he wasn't helping or doing any good. It was like his heart pulled him there and the universe didn't want anything other.

He was confused, a million different things going through his head as he looked over there.

He was disappointed that he wasn't able to see Yoongi's face, but he knew if he did he wouldn't want to, the look of unbearable pain coated his eyes he saw almost an hour ago locked and tattooed into his mind, replaying over and over. His heart shattered at the sight, unable to say a word, each one taken from his mouth as he stood there silently.

Park Jimin stood there for five minutes staring at the door that was slammed feet away from him.

He was beyond confused.

What was happening?

Terror and fear pulsed through him as he heard loud banging on the door feet away, his heartbeat failing to slow down.

He was awestruck, ruffling his hands through his hair.

He had made the reasonable decision to not enter the room. He didn't know what to do.

Jimin knew people needed peace and quiet by themselves, and he believed that Yoongi deserved his privacy. Jimin looked around, the homelike aura gone from the dark, barely lit room as he noticed the shattered glossy specks all over the floor, in which he was regretful for not wearing shoes.

Yet, being the angel Jimin was, he looked around for a broom. It was the least he could do.

He swept up the mess gently and quietly, careful to not step on any of the crystal-like shards.

Everything was so blurry. He was confused, words not being able to reach his mouth as he kept shaking his head every few moments or halting his sweeping motion. He couldn't get the sight out of his mind.

He would never forget the way Yoongi's beautiful deep brown eyes held a lifetime worth of brokenness, pain hidden behind the tears that ever so gently streamed down his pale cheeks. He looked far more tired than Jimin ever had when he looked in the mirror in the mornings as if his body was about to give up from the fight he had put up.

He looked so broken.

It was like Jimin's heart had been ripped up all over again.

Jimin paced around for a few minutes, the glass gone from the floor, fighting the urge that flooded through him not to enter the room. Yoongi had slammed the door, not looking back at an awed and absolutely terrified blonde.

Had he done something wrong?

Was this his fault?

Did Yoongi hate him now?